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OVER  THE  SEAS  FOR 
•     UNCLE  SAM 


n 


Only  the  hits  count!'* 


OVER  THE  SEAS 
FOR  UNCLE  SAM 


By 

ELAINE  STERNE 

Author  of  "The  Road  of  Ambition,"  "Sunny  Jim"  Stories,  Etc. 


**We're  ready  now!" — Navy  slogan. 


New  York 
BRITTON  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


Copyright,  1918 
Britton  Publishing  Company,  Inc. 


Made  in  U.  S.  A.     All  rights  reserved. 


To  the  Honorable  Josephus  Daniels 

Secretary  of  the  Navy, 

whose  devotion  to  the  interests  of  the  men  in  the 

American  Navy  has  been  an  inspiration  to  them 

no  less  than  to  the  nation  as  a  whole. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The  Wherefore  of  My  Little  Book 11 

Sunk  By  a  Submarine 21 

War  Clouds  Gather 35 

The  Stuff  Heroes  Are  Made  Of 49 

Depth  Bombs  and  Destroyers    .......  61 

In  Training ^^ 

Zeps  and  Torpedoes 91 

' '  The  Leather  Necks  " 107 

The  Way  with  the  Frenchies 119 

A  Yankee  Stands  By 135 

A  Taste  of  Hell 147 

The  Wanderlust  and  the  War  .    .    .    w    ^    .    .  161 

Under  the  Red  Cross  Banner    .    .    .    i    i    .    .  175 

"Abandon  Ship!" 191 

Prisoners  of  War 209 

Fritz  Gets  Tagged ^    ......  221 

The  Flower  of  France  ....£....•  233 


THE  WHEREFORE  OP  MY  LITTLE  BOOK 

"VVe  have  learned  some  things  in  war  times 
that  we  did  not  know  in  days  of  peace.  "We  have 
made  the  amazing  discovery  that  our  own  fathers 
and  brothers  and  husbands  and  lovers  are  poten- 
tial heroes.  We  knew  they  were  brave  and  strong 
and  eager  to  defend  us  if  need  be.  We  knew 
that  they  went  to  work  in  the  morning  and  re- 
turned at  night  just  so  that  we  might  live  in  com- 
fort; but  we  never  dreamed  that  the  day  would 
come  when  we  would  see  them  marching  off  to 
war — a  war  that  would  take  them  far  from  their 
own  shores.  We  never  dreamed  that,  like  the 
knights  of  old,  they  would  ride  away  on  a  quest 
as  holy  as  that  of  the  Crusaders. 

As  for  army  and  navy  life — it  had  always  been 
a  sealed  book  to  us,  a  realm  into  which  one  was 
born,  a  heritage  that  passed  from  father  to  son. 
We  heard  of  life  at  the  army  post.  We  saw  a 
uniform  now  and  then,  but  not  until  our  own 

II 


12  Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

men  donned  khaki  and  blue  did  we  of  the  ontside 
world  learn  of  the  traditions  of  the  army  and  of 
the  navy,  which  dated  back  to  the  days  of  our 
nation's  birth. 

We  did  not  know  that  each  regiment  had  its 
own  glorious  story  of  achievement — a  story  which 
all  raw  recruits  were  eager  to  live  up  to — a  story 
of  undaunted  fighting  in  the  very  face  of  death 
that  won  for  it  its  sobriquet. 

Because  the  army  lay  at  our  very  door,  we  came 
to  know  it  better,  to  learn  its  proud  lesson  more 
swiftly,  but  little  by  little  the  navy,  through  the 
lips  of  our  men,  unlocked  its  traditions,  tenderly 
fostered,  which  had  fired  its  new  sons  to  go  forth 
and  fight  to  the  finish  rather  than  yield  an  inch. 

As  a  first  lieutenant  in  the  Girls'  National 
Honor  Guard,  I  was  appointed  in  May,  1917,  for 
active  duty  in  hospital  relief  work.  It  was  then 
that  I  came  to  know  Miss  Mary  duBose,  Chief 
Nurse  of  the  United  States  Naval  Hospital,  whose 
co-operation  at  every  turn  has  helped  this  little 
volume  to  come  into  being. 

The  boys  of  the  navy  are  her  children.     She 


The  Wherefore  of  My  Little  Booh        13 

watches  over  them  with  the  brooding  tenderness 
of  a  mother.  Praise  of  their  achievements  she 
receives  with  flashing  pride.  With  her  entire 
heart  and  soul  she  is  wrapped  up  in  her  work. 
Through  her  shines  the  spirit  of  the  service — 
the  tireless  devotion  to  duty. 

I  had  never  before  been  inside  a  naval  hos- 
pital. I  had  a  vague  idea  that  it  would  be  a  great 
machine,  rather  overcrowded,  to  be  sure,  in  war 
times,  but  running  on  oiled  hinges — completely 
soulless. 

I  found  instead  a  huge  building,  which,  in  spite 
of  its  size,  breathed  a  warm  hominess.  Its  halls 
and  wards  are  spotless.  Through  the  great  win- 
dows the  sun  pours  in  on  the  patients,  as  cheery 
a  lot  of  boys  as  you  would  care  to  see. 

There  are  always  great  clusters  of  flowers  in 
the  wards — bright  spots  of  color — there  are  al- 
ways games  spread  out  on  the  beds.  There  is 
always  the  rise  of  young  voices — laughter — calls. 
And  moving  among  the  patients  are  the  nurses — 
little  white-clad  figures  with  the  red  cross  above 
their  heart.    Some  of  them  appear  frail  and  flower- 


14  Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

like,  some  of  them  very  young,  but  all  impress  one 
with  their  quiet  strength  and  efficiency. 

I  have  spoken  to  a  great  many  of  them.  They 
are  enthusiastic  and  eager.  They  praise  highly 
the  splendid  work  done  abroad  by  their  sisters, 
but  they  are  serious  about  the  work  to  be  done 
here  as  well.  Their  tasks  are  carried  on  with  no 
flaunting  of  banners,  but  they  are  in  active  service 
just  the  same,  nursing  our  boys  to  health  every 
hour  of  the  day — giving  sons  back  to  their 
mothers — husbands  to  their  wives. 

It  is  a  corps  to  be  proud  of  and  a  great  volume 
of  credit  should  be  laid  at  the  feet  of  Mrs.  Leneh 
Higbee,  the  national  head  of  the  Naval  Nurse 
Corps.  It  was  Mrs.  Higbee  who  built  up  the 
Corps — ^who  has  given  her  life's  work  to  keep- 
ing up  the  standard  of  that  organization — of  mak- 
ing it  a  corps  whose  personnel  and  professional 
standing  in  efficiency  cannot  be  surpassed  in  the 
world  to-day. 

As  my  visits  to  the  hospital  became  more  fre- 
quent, I  began,  bit  by  bit,  to  gather  a  story  here 
and  there,  from  the  men  who  lay  ill — stories  of 


The  Wherefore  of  My  Little  Book       15 

nnconscious  heroism — deeds  they  had  performed 
as  part  of  a  day's  work  on  the  high  seas. 

They  did  not  want  praise  for  what  they  had 
done.  They  are  an  independent  lot — our  sailors — 
proud  of  their  branch  of  service.  *'No  drafted 
men  in  the  navy,"  they  tell  you  with  a  straight- 
ening of  their  shoulders. 

And  from  the  officers  I  learned  of  that  deeper 
love — that  worship  of  the  sea — of  the  vessel 
placed  in  their  hands  to  command.  From  them 
I  heard  for  the  first  time  of  the  value  of  a  dis- 
cipline iron-bound — rigid — a  discipline  that 
brooks  no  argument.  There  were  stories  of  men 
who  had  hoped  and  dreamed  all  their  lives  of  a 
certain  cruise,  only  to  find  themselves  transferred 
to  the  other  end  of  the  world.  Did  they  utter  a 
word  of  complaint?  Not  they!  "Orders  are 
orders" — that  was  enough  for  them! 

And  because  those  of  us  who  send  our  men  to 
sea  are  burning  to  know  the  tales  they  have  to 
tell,  I  have  made  this  little  collection — the  men's 
own  stories,  told  in  the  ward  to  other  round- 
eyed  youths  who  gathered  about  the  bed  to  hear, 


16  Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

full  of  eager  questions,  prompting  when  the  story 
moved  too  slowly. 

Wliat  you  read  here  are  their  stories — stories 
of  whole-souled  youths,  with  the  sparkle  of  life 
in  their  eyes,  with  the  love  of  adventure  in  their 
hearts.  Jack  Tar  is  an  American  clear  through 
to  his  backbone! 

Elaine  Sterne. 

New  York, 

May  15, 1918. 


Jack  is  his  own  ''chambermaid." 


JACK  TAR 

We're  not  long  on  recitation, 

We're  just  rough  and  ready  gobs, 

But  we  rate  ten  gadgets  higher 

Than  some  smug  civilian  snobs. 

When  we  're  out  on  well-earned  shore  leave 

Drummin'  up  a  little  cheer, 

Oh,  we  meet  sleek  city  dandies 

Who  object  to  sailors  here. 

They  are  togged  in  pretty  shirts 

Like  a  lady  on  parade, 

And  they  wouldn't  touch  a  sailor 

With  a  hoe  or  with  a  spade. 

We  may  not  be  ornamental 

In  the  tinselled  dancing  halls, 

When  the  nation  needs  defenders 

We  are  there  when  duty  calls. 

Though  we  can't  hob-nob  with  laggards 

Who  sleep  in  sheltered  bed 

And  we  can't  enjoy  peace  pleasures, 

We  can  join  the  hero  dead. 


17 


CHIEF  GUNNER  BLAKE 
SPEAKS: 


SUNK  BY  SUBMAEINE 

Somewhere  along  in  January,  1915,  I  shipped 
on  the  U.  S.  S.  Utah.  Always  had  a  hankering 
after  the  sea,  and  then,  to  tell  the  truth,  civilian 
jobs  were  pretty  hard  to  land  in  1915 — you  bet 
they  were ! 

Once  you're  in  the  Navy  you  stay  for  a  while. 
I  liked  it  from  the  start.  I  got  to  know  a  thing 
or  two  about  the  guns,  went  to  gunnery  school; 
that's  how  I  came  to  be  made  chief  gunner's  mate, 
I  guess,  and  told  to  report  for  armed  guard  duty 
on  May  29, 1917. 

I  drew  an  old  tub.  I  suppose  it  had  been  used 
to  carry  a  cargo  of  salt  fish  from  Maine  to  New- 
foundland, and  here  it  was,  painted  fresh,  and 
ready  to  cross  the  old  Atlantic,  which  was  fairly 
bristling  with  mines  and  lurking  sea-devils. 

21 


22  Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

We  put  to  sea  June  19tli,  and  we  reached  the 
War  Zone  on  Jnly  3rd.  I  know  what  I'm  doing, 
writing  War  Zone  with  capitals.  You  don't  have 
to  be  told  when  you  get  there.  You  feel  it  in  the 
air — it's  like  a  wire  vibrating;  everyone's  on 
edge,  keyed  up  to  G  pitch. 

It  was  my  job  to  see  that  all  lights  were  doused 
and  all  ports  closed  as  soon  as  it  got  dark.  I 
wasn't  particular  about  the  way  I  enforced  orders 
just  so  I  got  them  obeyed — and  I  saw  to  it  that 
every  man  who  carried  a  match  was  parted  from 
it  and  that  all  pocket  lights  were  put  in  a  neat 
little  pile — officers  excepted,  of  course.  They  kept 
theirs. 

Every  hour  I  made  a  round  of  the  ship,  watch- 
ing out  sharp  for  a  light.  Important !  Say,  just 
suppose  Fritz's  sea-baby  were  Ijdng  off  a  few 
miles  or  so  without  the  faintest  idea  that  a  mer- 
chantman, chuck-full  of  munitions,  was  a  stone's 
throw  away.  Think  how  that  German  crew  would 
feel  if  across  the  darkness  they  saw  the  flare  of  a 
match.  Well,  it  would  be  apt  to  be  lights  out  for 
us  all  that  time — that's  what. 


Sunk  by  Submarine  23 

The  watch  was  doubled — f  onr  on  and  f  onr  off — 
a  watch  of  good  sixteen  hours  at  a  clip,  with  a 
life  preserver  on  every  minute  of  the  time — that 
is,  you  were  supposed  to.  On  the  transports  the 
rule  is  carried  out  to  the  letter.  Catch  a  man 
without  a  life  belt  and  he  can  be  pretty  sure  he  '11 
be  up  for  court-martial  when  he  gets  back  to  port. 

But  with  us  it  was  different.  We  kept  them 
close  by;  some  of  the  men  slept  in  them.  I  had 
mine  over  my  feet  ready  to  snatch  up  in  case  of 
trouble. 

It  was  July  3rd,  remember,  and  we  were  feeling 
pretty  good.  My  bunky  was  McCaffrey — Mac  for 
short — a  little  red-headed,  freckled  Irishman  from 
Wisconsin,  the  best  that  comes  west  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi. We  had  it  all  fixed  up  to  fire  a  gun  off 
on  the  Fourth. 

''Sure,  it's  a  fine  opinion  Fritz '11  have  of  us  if 
he's  thinkin'  we're  scared  to  let  him  know  it's 
our  big  day  back  home,"  he  argued. 

I  thought  it  was  a  great  idea— I  told  him  I'd 
stand  by  if  he'd  share  the  blame.  Of  course  we 
knew  darned  well  we'd  never  really  pull  it  off, 


24 Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

but  it  was  good  fun  planning  the  whole  thing  just 
the  same. 

The  sea  was  calm  that  night,  for  a  wonder — just 
a  gentle  swell.  We  were  on  watch  at  eight,  all  on 
good  lookout.  Orders  were  to  stand  by,  and  the 
guns  were  pruned,  ready  to  shoot  red  hell  into  any- 
thing short  of  an  ally. 

I  wish  we  could  have  had  a  close-up  of  us. 
Faces  grim,  tense  from  excitement,  joking  a  bit 
under  our  breaths,  wishing  to  Moses  we  could  have 
a  smoke,  betting  we'd  get  through  without  sight- 
ing anything  better  than  our  own  reflection  in  the 
water. 

Somehow  we  felt  peppy.  I  guess  it  was  think- 
ing about  the  Fourth  and  what  it  stood  for. 
Seemed  queer  to  be  in  mid-ocean  on  the  night  be- 
fore the  Declaration  of  Independence  was  signed 
— yep,  in  the  middle  of  a  blooming  black  sea,  with 
nothing  in  sight  but  a  dash  of  white  foam  against 
your  keel,  where  you  cut  along  through  a  swell. 

I'd  just  glanced  at  my  radium  watch  and  blessed 
the  girl  who  gave  it  to  me.  It  was  nine.  I  glanced 
up.    Not  fifty  yards  away  was  a  ribbon  of  white 


Sunk  by  Submarine  25 

foam  flung  out  on  the  water  like  a  scarf,  and, 
sticking  straight  out,  by  God,  was  the  periscope  of 
a  German  submarine. 

No  one  waited  for  the  command,  **Fire  when 
ready.  .  .  .*' 

The  ship  was  action  electrified.  I  never  saw 
a  crew  work  like  that.  They  fired  point-blank  and 
sent  that  periscope  straight  up  to  where  all  good 
periscopes  go.    Eipped  her  clean  off. 

We  weren't  sure  we'd  sunk  her,  but  we  figured 
we  had.  How  did  we  feel?  How  do  you  think? 
That  was  celebrating  the  Fourth  right  and 
proper! 

Mac,  sweating  like  a  horse,  panting  from  ex- 
citement, managed  to  breeze  by  and  chuckle. 

"Didn't  I  tell  you  we'd  shoot  one  off  to  show 
'em  who 's  who  ? ' ' 

It  was  a  great  night.  We  were  heroes.  We 
had  knocked  the  stuffings  out  of  a  periscope;  it 
stood  to  reason  we'd  sunk  her. 

We  figured  out  how  it  happened.  The  subma- 
rine, when  she  was  'way  out  on  the  horizon  line, 
must  have  seen  us  coming.     She  had  evidently 


26 Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 


made  a  long  detour,  plotting  our  course  and  plan- 
ning to  arrive  where  she  could  take  good  aim  and 
fire.  What  happened  was  that  we  changed  our 
course,  so  that  when  she  popped  up  she  was 
plumb  across  our  bow.  Surprised !  Wow !  I  bet 
her  commander,  if  he's  alive,  hasn't  closed  his 
mouth  yet ! 

It  was  something  like  this : 

,^,;T^^ »^«*"<  0  — ^-^ ill^  WoviXoiif  Vine- 

/ 


Well,  we  pretty  well  patted  ourselves  on  the 
back,  but  German  submarines  must  travel  in  pairs, 
like  rattlesnakes,  or  else  she  came  back  to  life, 
for  an  hour  later  she  struck  us  amidships. 

You  know  it  when  you're  struck.  Rather !  The 
crash—the  roar— the  tremendous  vibration— for 
a  full  minute,  as  the  big  hulk  trembles  and  shud- 
ders— ^the  hiss  of  water  rushing  into  the  boilers, 


Sunk  by  Submarine  27 

the  steam  gushing,  the  sndden  listing,  and,  worst 
of  all,  the  throb  of  the  engines  silenced.  .  .  . 

You  never  forget  that  silence,  felt  rather  than 
heard.  It  means  yon^re  a  goner  for  fair.  Above 
all  the  orders,  rapped  out  like  the  clip  of  a  ham- 
mer on  steel — that  noisy  silence  sounds  loudest  in 
your  ears. 

** Stand  by  your  guns.  ..."  Sure  we  did. 
While  there  was  still  a  chance  we  wanted  to  get 
a  whack  at  that  sub.,  but  all  the  time  I  was  worry- 
ing about  Mac.  He  was  taking  a  watch  off.  Could 
I  reach  him? 

**.  .  .  Get  back,  you  damned  fools.  ..." 

**.  .  .  Man  the  life-boats!" 

".  .  .  Gee,  that's  a  close  one!  Look  spry  or 
you  11  wash  overboard.  ..." 

We  didn't  leave  our  post  until  the  last  life-boat 
swung  clear  and  landed  with  her  crew.  A  couple 
of  boats  had  been  smashed  against  the  side  of 
the  ship  and  we  heard  the  yells  of  their  crew — 
nasty  sound,  that. 

I  forgot  about  my  life-belt — I  wanted  to  find 
Mac.    I  couldn't.    It  was  pitch  black.    The  water 


28         Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

was  waist  deep  and  washing  over  yon  in  gigantic 
waves.  There  was  only  one  chance — to  jump  for 
it.  I  took  it.  I  landed  near  the  propellers.  I 
could  hear  them  churning  fiercely — I  could  feel 
their  suction  drawing  me  to  them.  I  guess  I 
fought  like  a  fiend.  I'd  heard  about  the  death 
men  die  drawn  into  that  blasted  hole  the  ship 
makes  when  she  goes  down  to  Davy  Jones. 

I  didn't  think  of  home.  I  didn't  think  of  my 
past  sins.  I  just  thought  with  every  ounce  of  my 
strength  that  if  I  could  keep  swimming  for  a  few 
seconds  more  I  could  be  clear  of  that  undertow. 
I  made  it. 

All  around  me  men  were  calling  for  help.  I 
made  out  a  life-boat  a  few  yards  away  and  hol- 
lered to  them,  and  just  then  an  oar  floated  by. 

I  never  was  so  glad  to  see  anything  in  my  life. 
I  rested  on  it  and  caught  another.  Two  oars! 
Why,  it  was  as  good  as  a  raft.  I  was  safe — if 
only  I  could  find  McCaffrey  in  that  black  hell. 

I  yelled  his  name  and  heard  a  sputter  behind 
me. 

"For  God's  sake,  save  me " 


Sunk  by  Submarine  29 

**Caii't  you  swim?** 

*'No.** 

**Stay  where  yon  are;  1*11  get  you.** 

It  was  Spick,  one  of  the  oilers — a  big  chap, 
weighing  a  good  one-ninety. 

*' Steady!    I'm  coming.** 

He  grabbed  the  oar  and  lay  across  it,  a  dead 
weight.    Someone  else  pulled  me  down. 

**Help!'* 

It  was  little  Tucker,  mess  attendant,  a  kid  of 
seventeen.  He  was  all  in.  I  shoved  them  both 
along,  and  they  were  heavy,  let  me  tell  you.  Some- 
one in  the  boat  saw  us  and  drew  alongside.  They 
lifted  us  in. 

** Where *s  McCaffrey!**  I  asked  them. 

Just  then  I  saw  him.  He  was  swimming 
straight  for  us.  I  let  out  a  yeU,  but  it  died  in  my 
throat 

Straight  out  of  the  water,  not  twenty  yards 
away,  rose  the  gray  bulk  of  the  submarine,  its 
greenish  light  casting  a  weird  glow  over  that  aw- 
ful scene  of  struggling  men.  Fritz  *s  war-baby 
had  come  back  to  gloat  over  the  damage  it  had 
done. 


30  Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 


Our  captain,  with  his  pocket  light,  was  flashing 
the  Morse  code  on  the  water  as  he  floundered 
about. 

From  the  deck  of  the  submarine  the  command- 
er's voice  rang  out.  He  spoke  as  good  English  as 
I  do. 

^'What  ship  have  I  hit?'' 

Someone  told  him. 

''Where  is  your  captain?" 

Silence. 

''Where  is  your  captain f 

Then  it  was  that  little  Tucker,  sitting  forward, 
tense,  leaned  far  out  and  yelled : 

*' Douse  yer  glim,  Cap,  douse  yer  glim.  ..." 

Out  it  went.  The  commander  gave  an  order. 
We  couldn't  hear  it,  but  we  were  afraid  he  meant 
to  make  straight  for  us  and  cut  us  in  two.  We 
pulled  away,  but,  instead,  he  was  wishing  us  the 
best  of  luck  to  lie  there  and  rot,  and  then  they 
submerged — just  vanished  into  the  black  ^ater 
from  which  they  had  appeared. 

We  waited  trembling,  but  nothing  happened. 
There  wasn't  a  boat  in  sight.     The  old  hulk  of 


Sunk  by  Submarine  31 

our  ship  had  gone  down  forever.  I  thought  of 
the  Captain  and  of  McCaffrey. 

* '  Let 's  get  'em  now,  mates, ' '  I  urged.  But  from 
the  direction  in  which  we'd  last  heard  them  there 
came  no  sound.  They  weren't  there.  Nobody 
was.    So  we  pulled  away. 

It  was  a  leaky  boat  and  we  stripped  off  our 
shirts — anything  we  had  on  that  was  white,  so  that 
in  case  Fritz  came  back  he  could  not  sight  us.  We 
needed  the  shirts,  all  right,  to  stuff  up  the  holes 
in  the  boat.  Those  who  weren't  stopping  up  the 
holes  took  turns  bailing.  We  bailed  like  fiends — 
no  time  to  think — ^no  time  for  anything  but  to 
hope  a  convoy  would  pick  us  up. 

Along  toward  dawn,  at  six-thirty  to  be  exact, 
our  own  convoy  sighted  us.  The  boys  were 
pretty  stiff  from  exposure,  but  I  was  all  right — 
all  right  and  fighting  mad — ^my  matey  had  gone 
down. 

*  *  I  '11  ^rc^  that  Kaiser, ' '  I  told  them.  And  I  wiU, 
too.  That 's  why  I  'm  shipping  on  a  destroyer  next. 
I'll  get  that  Kaiser,  see  if  I  don't. 


to  111''/ 


CHIEF  PETTY  OFFICER  WILSON 
SPEAKS : 


WAR  CLOUDS  GATHER 

The  French  are  a  whole  lot  different  from  us — 
more  easy-going-like.  They  make  their  money 
and  spend  it  free.  I  like  that  about  them.  Not 
like  some  people  I  know  who  won't  let  go  of  a 
nickel  once  they  gets  a  death  grip  on  it. 

Well,  say,  when  we  was  anchored  at  Villef  ranche 
we  come  to  know  a  thing  or  two  about  the 
Frenchies.  Villef  ranche  is  just  over  the  hill  from 
Nice — a  nice  jaunt  of  a  couple  of  miles  or  so,  or 
if  youVe  a  mind  to,  you  can  take  a  little  car  that 
gets  you  there  before  you  know  it. 

Nice  is  on  the  style  of  Atlantic  City.  If  you  ask 
me,  I  like  Atlantic  City  better,  but  then  that's  be- 
cause they  speak  United  States  there.  Still  Nice 
has  a  great  bathing  beach — you  have  to  hand  it 
to  them — and  you  get  so  you  like  them  little  tables 
set  out  in  front  of  the  cafes,  where  they  ''parlez- 
vous"  with  each  other  and  drink  quarts  of  red 
ink. 

35 


36  Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

We  'd  hike  over  to  Nice  every  shore  leave.  Some 
of  the  crew  went  as  far  as  Monte  Carlo,  but  not 
me.  I  was  satisfied.  Besides,  one  place  was  as 
sporty  as  the  other,  if  that  was  what  yon  wanted. 
They  was  chuck-full  of  what  the  French  call  the 
*'joie  de  vie,''  which  in  Yankee  means  ''plenty  of 
pep" — that's  it. 

You  always  felt  happy  there  and  the  people 
w^as  great!  Didn't  seem  to  take  nothing  serious 
— the  Frenchies  don't,  in  peace  times.  The 
women  had  a  twinkle  in  their  eye  and  a  kind  of 
sparkle  about  them,  and  the  men  said  pretty 
things  and  twirled  their  canes — oh,  they  was  a 
cheerful  lot,  all  right. 

Eemember,  all  this  was  before  the  war.  It  was 
August.  Hot.  Still.  Can't  you  see  it?  The  sea, 
where  our  boat  lay  at  anchor,  calm  as  glass  and 
blue  as  a  turquoise.  The  sand  along  the  beach, 
snow  white. 

It  was  a  Saturday,  and  we  had  a  forty-eight, 
which  took  us  ashore  at  ten  in  the  morning. 
Didn't  want  to  miss  no  time  on  land.  The  day 
was  so  fine  that  we  decided  to  foot  it  into  toAvn. 


War  Clouds  Gather  37 


Everything  was  green  and  growing  and  smelled 
good.  We  took  our  time  and  ambled  into  Nice 
long  about  chow.  The  minute  we  hit  that  port  I 
knew  for  sure  something  was  up. 

Oh,  don't  think  there  hadn't  been  war  talk  fly- 
ing about.  Sure  there  had,  but,  except  for  a  gen- 
eral uneasiness,  you  wouldn't  know  nothing  was 
doing.  The  Frenchies  are  like  that — they  don't 
hunt  trouble,  but  when  it  comes — oh,  boy !  They 
sure  are  right  there! 

We  seen  little  groups  of  folks  standing  talldng 
together.  The  shop  keepers  had  left  their  shops, 
and  joined  the  crowds  on  the  street.  They  was 
waving  their  hands — they  are  great  on  that — 
everyone  speaking  at  once.  We  come  up  close  and 
listened.  What  we  heard  certainly  made  our  ears 
ring ! 

War !  France  was  going  to  declare  war  on  Ger- 
many! Queer  how  that  black  cloud  seemed  to 
change  the  whole  complexion  of  that  little  sun- 
soaked  town.  I'd  never  seen  the  natives  look  like 
that  before.  There  was  a  little  old  woman  who 
kept  a  fruit  stand— figs  and  peaches  and  what-not. 


38  Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

She  always  had  a  grin  for  us  fellows  when  we 
passed.  She  and  her  granddaughter.  The  grand- 
daughter was  a  pretty  girl — her  cheeks  was  as 
red  as  the  side  of  the  peaches  and  she  had  black 
eyes  and  hair.  They  w^as  al\vays  ready  to  swap 
a  *'bon  jour"  with  us — ^but  lot  today.  The  old 
lady  was  minding  the  stand  alone.  She  looked 
kind  of  white — no  smile — no  wave  of  her  hand. 
She  told  me  her  granddaughter  had  gone  to  the 
square  where  the  bulletins  was  bf  ng  posted.  We 
beat  it  over. 

It  was  about  three;  no,  I  guess  it  was  four, 
before  the  big  crowds  began  to  gather  in  the 
square.  Up  to  that  time  there  had  been  little 
groups  drifting  here  and  there,  but  by  four  the 
wagons  had  stopped  at  the  corners,  their  drivers 
had  climbed  dowm  from  the  seats  and  pushed  their 
way  into  the  mob,  and  the  tram-car  conductors 
and  motormen  just  left  their  cars  wherever  they 
happened  to  shut  off  power,  and  shoved  their  way 
in  for  a  view  of  the  bulletins. 

I  tell  you,  that  little  town  was  at  fever  heat! 
Excitement?    Say,  nothing  beats  a  Frenchie  at 


War  Clouds  Gather  39 

that!  I've  seen  a  lot  of  things  in  my  time,  but 
it  certainly  gave  me  a  queer  feeling  in  the  pit  of 
my  stomach  to  realize  just  what  those  bulletins 
meant.  It  kind  of  got  you  to  see  that  little  pleas- 
ure city  so  dead  serious  all  at  once. 

Everyone  in  Nice  was  in  that  crowd — rich  man, 
poor  man,  beggar  man,  thief.  The  ladies  from 
the  Riviera,  in  their  silks  and  satins — the  trades- 
people— ^the  poor — all  fighting  for  a  view  of  the 
words  flashed  on  the  boards. 

Someone  yelled,  ''Vive  la  France!  Vive  la 
France!"  and  a  thousand  voices  caught  it  up  un- 
til it  rose  and  swelled  like  the  roar  of  the  combers 
in  a  storm. 

We  had  seen  Nice  quiet  and  peaceful  and 
pretty — we  saw  a  different  Nice  from  that  mo- 
ment. They  didn't  waste  no  time.  They  began 
calling  in  the  reserves.  Do  you  know  how  they 
done  it?  Why,  they'd  simply  gather  them  up  as 
they  went  along  the  street.  From  buildings  and 
shops  and  hotels  and  huts  they  poured — boys  for 
the  most  part — some  pulling  on  a  coat  and  button- 
ing it  as  they  ran,  and  women  following  them, 


40  Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

always  women — sweethearts  and  mothers — look- 
ing puzzled  and  dazed  by  it  all,  but  never  hold- 
ing the  boys  back — not  they! 

I  never  seen  Mlows  mustered  in  that  quick. 
The  streets  were  choked  with  men — sharp  orders 
rang  out,  and  the  blare  of  trumpets  and  rolling 
of  drums.  Say,  I  had  to  pinch  myself  to  be  sure 
I  wasn't  dreaming  it!  You  read  about  such 
things,  but  you  never  expect  to  see  them  with  your 
ovm.  two  eyes ! 

Some  few  men  had  uniforms  or  parts  of  uni- 
forms. Some  carried  old  swords  their  fathers  had 
fought  with  before  them.  Some  of  them  sang  as 
they  marched  to  their  barracks,  arm  in  arm.  Some 
broke  aw^ay  and  ran  ahead,  calling  to  a  pal,  stop- 
ping to  speak  with  an  old  friend.  And  always, 
lined  up  cm  either  side  of  the  street,  was  the  rav- 
ing, crazy  mob  that  cheered  them,  flinging  up  their 
hats  and  waving  handkerchiefs. 

Outside  the  cafes,  at  the  little  tables,  wine  was 
flowing  like  water.  One  glass  after  another  flung 
down  with  a  toast  to  France.  They  didn't  stop 
at  that.    I  seen  a  little  girl  spring  up  on  a  table 


War  Clouds  Gather  41 


and  hold  her  glass  high;  all  the  folks  at  nearby 
tables  jumped  to  their  feet,  cheering  her.  I 
couldn't  hear  what  she  said,  but  suddenly  she 
straightened  up  and  began  singing  the  "Marseil- 
laise." Lord!  The  whole  town  caught  up  the 
tune — it  came  from  everywhere.  Women  in  open 
windows  above  the  street,  leaning  way  out  over 
the  sills,  sang  it;  children  in  the  street  piped  up; 
there  wasn't  no  one  too  young  or  too  old  to 
join  in. 

The  boys  marching  by  grinned  at  her  as  they 
shouted  it,  and  she  waved  to  them. 

At  a  crossing  I  caught  sight  of  our  little  old 
woman.  She  was  shelling  out  all  the  fruit  on  her 
stand  to  the  boys  as  they  passed.  The  tears  was 
rolling  down  her  cheeks,  but  she  smiled  at  them 
just  the  same. 

I  didn't  see  her  granddaughter  until  some  time 
later;  then  I  found  her  with  a  fellow  who  was 
dragging  on  his  uniform  coat  and  talking  to  her 
at  the  same  time.  She  helped  him  fasten  it,  her 
eyes  on  his  face.  I  never  seen  anyone  look  so  hard 
at  a  man — as  if  she  could  eat  him  up  with  her  eyes. 


42.         Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

.When  he  left  her  she  stood  staring  after  him.  I 
wormed  my  way  in  through  the  crowd  until  I  got 
alongside  of  her  and  I  took  her  arm,  but  she  didn't 
seem  to  know  I  was  there. 

Bulletins  was  flashed  every  few  minutes.  No 
sooner  would  one  get  posted  up  than  they  would 
tear  it  do^^Ti  to  make  room  for  another.  Above 
the  roar  of  voices  rang  out  the  call  to  arms,  and 
always  from  no  place  in  particular  men  and  men 
and  men  came  pouring,  keen  to  get  into  the  Big 
Scrap. 

You  couldn't  take  a  train  if  you  wanted  to. 
Everything  was  commandeered  for  the  *' mili- 
tary," as  they  call  it  over  there. 

The  sun  went  down  and  the  street  lamps  began 
to  wink  at  you  and  still  the  excitement  raged.  Bul- 
letins— crowds — trumpets — ^voices — soldiers  arriv- 
ing from  Monte  Carlo  and  a  new  set  of  cheers  for 
them.  No  sleep  for  nobody,  just  moving  through 
the  packed  streets  listening  to  a  snatch  of  conver- 
sation here  and  a  snatch  there. 

And  every  passenger  coach  and  freight  train 
jammed  with  soldiers  on  their  way  to  the  concen- 


War  Clouds  Gather  43 


tration  camp.  Those  who  had  any,  wore  the  old 
French  uniform — yon  know,  the  red  pants  and 
blue  coats — great  colors,  but  say,  what  cruel  tar- 
gets for  Boche  bullets  they  turned  out  to  be ! 

Next  day  the  cry  went  up  for  horses — they 
needed  horses,  and  they  got  them.  That's  the 
Frenchies'  spirit  for  you.  Nothing  is  too  much 
to  do  for  their  beloved  country.  Every  farmer 
with  a  four-legged  animal  drove  into  Nice  and 
gave  him  up  gladly,  and  what's  more  brought  in 
all  his  garden  produce  for  the  boys. 

It  was  like  a  horse  mart.  I  never  seen  so  many 
sweating,  rearing,  stamping  brutes.  One  farmer 
drove  in  a  little  blind  mare  he'd  raised  from  a 
colt.  Rummiest  horse  I  ever  seen.  Wind-broke, 
with  a  coat  that  looked  like  the  moths  got  into  it. 
the  old  man  seemed  pretty  fond  of  her,  for  he 
talked  to  her  considerable  before  he  parted  from 
her.  He  didn't  pay  no  attention  to  the  crowd 
looking  on,  only  he  just  kept  whispering  in  her  ear 
and  stroking  her  nose.  After  a  while  he  turned 
her  over  to  the  officer  in  charge. 

*'I  have  explained  to  my  friend  that  she  must 


44  Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

fight  for  France  and  she  has  said  in  that  case  she 
is  willing  to  go,"  he  told  them  in  French.  They 
took  her,  too,  and  he  hiked  back  a  dozen  miles  or 
so  mthout  another  word. 

Once  on  the  ship  again,  we  laid  in  the  harbor 
at  Villef ranche  for  a  week,  but  from  the  deck  you 
could  see  the  little  seaport  town  and  that  line  of 
men  that  wound  over  the  hill — tramping — tramp- 
ing toward  the  sunset — thousands  of  them — an 
endless  stream. 

We  went  to  Gibralter.  Just  to  let  you  know  how 
particular  them  British  ships  had  become  let  me 
tell  you  that  they  halted  us  at  sea  one  night  and 
made  us  run  up  our  colors.  They  weren't  taking 
no  chances. 

We  laid  there  another  week — no  liberty — ^noth- 
ing. We  knew  then  we  was  in  the  War  Zone. 
The  gates  were  dowTi  and  only  the  French  and 
English  allowed  in.  You  couldn't  even  coal  your 
ship,  and  what  w^as  more,  we  were  in  direct  line 
of  fire  from  the  British  guns  behind  us.  We 
heaved  a  sigh  as  we  started  down  to  Tangiers, 
Morocco. 


War  Clouds  Gather  45 

Some  contrast!  No  excitement — no  faintest 
hint  of  a  war.  Just  a  dirty  Arab  town  with  streets 
so  narrow  your  shoulders  graze  the  walls  on  either 
side.    Dirt  and  flies  and  beggars. 

We  was  burning  up  for  news — we  went  crazy 
tied  up  there  a  month.  Then  we  went  home  and 
learned  what  was  happening.  We  heard  about 
Verdun  and  the  Kaiser  promising  to  make  Paris 
by  Christmas  and  all  such  rot. 

Folks  asked  us  what  we  thought  of  the  war.  I 
used  to  say,  "If  you  want  to  know  mp  opinion,  I 
think  the  sooner  we  lend  those  Frenchies  a  hand 
the  better!"  and  that's  just  what  we're  doing — 
at  last ! 

You  get  so  you  love  them  if  you  stay  around 
them  awhile.  They're  so  happy  and  cheerful,  but 
when  there's  business  to  be  done  you  can't  put 
nothing  over  on  them!  I  won't  never  forget  that 
old  fellow  and  his  blind  mare.  Gee !  How  he  did 
hate  to  part  from  her!  But  that  didn't  stop  him 
from  doing  it.  But  then  that's  Frenchies  for  you 
— nothing  is  too  much  .  .  .  ! 


1 


COMMANDER  WOODMAN 
SPEAKS : 


*' General  Byng"— Friend  and  mascot  of  the 
U.  S.  S. ''Recrnit." 


THE  STUFF  HEROES  ARE  MADE  OF 


HONOR  MEDAL  FOR  U.  S.  SAILOR 

FIRST  AWARD  GOES  TO  OHIO  MAN  WHO  SAVED 
BALLOON  PILOT 

Washington,  Nov.  12. — The  first  naval  medal  of  honor 
awarded  during  the  present  war  was  announced  by 
Secretary  Daniels  to-day  as  the  reward  of  Dennis 
O'Hara,  who  rescued  the  pilot  of  a  kite  balloon  which 
was  struck  by  a  squall  in  the  submarine  zone. 

The  balloon  was  being  used  for  observation  purposes 
by  a  United  States  cruiser.  The  pilot  was  saved  by 
0  'Hara  from  the  submerged  basket  of  the  balloon. 

When  is  a  hero  not  a  hero?  Do  you  know,  if 
there  is  any  one  thing  this  war  has  proved  to 
all  of  us,  it  is  the  fact  that  every  man  jack  of  us 
has  a  large  and  totally  unsuspected  slice  of  cour- 
age tucked  away  within  him  somewhere.  "We 
never  used  to  think  so.    We  used  to  suppose  that 

49 


50  Over  the  Seas  for  Uiicle  Sam 

the  ability  to  be  brave  in  the  face  of  death  was  a 
great  gift  granted  only  to  a  chosen  few. 

Do  you  remember  wondering  how  such  heroes 
came  to  be  born  as  the  men  of  the  ''Light  Bri- 
gade," who  rode  without  a  quiver  straight  into 
the  jaws  of  hell?  "VVe  read  in  our  history  books 
of  Perry  and  Farragut,  or  we  heard  the  veterans 
of  the  battles  of  Lake  Erie  and  Mobile  Bay  tell 
the  stirring  tales.  I  used  to  suspect  that  these 
men,  whose  names  went  ringing  down  the  halls  of 
time,  were  of  different  stuff  somehow — a  sort  of 
super-caliber — I  never  thought  to  see  the  day 
when  the  greatest  deeds  of  fearlessness,  of  self- 
sacrifice,  would  be  performed  on  the  field  of 
honor  by  the  butchers  and  bakers  and  candlestick- 
makers  of  this  country. 

Take  a  clerk  who  has  toiled  at  his  desk  for  ten 
long  years.  He  is  afraid  of  death  because  he  has 
time  to  be,  but  close  up  his  books  and  dry  his  pen 
and  let  him  join  the  army  or  navy — build  him  up 
— make  his  white  blood  red  and  send  him  on  a 
destroyer  or  order  him  over  the  top — afraid  of 
death!  not  much  he  isn't! — too  intent  on  launch- 


The  Stuff  Heroes  Are  Made  of         51 

ing  a  depth  charge  or  sniping  a  Hun  to  think 
about  it. 

Besides,  once  you  get  used  to  the  idea  that  every 
minute  may  be  your  last  you  don't  seem  to  mind 
it.  You  rather  relax  and  you  don't  worry;  you 
obey  orders  and  stand  by — and  you  are  deter- 
mined to  be  as  game  as  the  next  fellow  when  the 
Great  Call  comes. 

Heroism  is  a  large  word  for  all  this.  It  is  just 
a  part  of  the  day's  work.  That's  what  I  like  best 
about  the  youngsters  in  this  war  who  have  done 
deeds  of  bravery  that  can  stand  up  beside  any 
acts  performed  in  the  days  gone  by.  They  are 
indignant  if  you  praise  them.  Yes,  they  are. 
They  tell  you  impatiently  that  what  they  have 
done  anyone  else  would  do.  Perhaps  it  is  true. 
I  guess  so.  But  you  have  to  let  it  go  at  that. 
They  won't  stand  your  making  much  of  them. 
Not  by  a  long  shot. 

Take  the  case  of  the  boy  on  our  ship.  He  was 
a  capable  chap,  who  went  about  his  duties  with- 
out attracting  a  bit  of  attention.  Just  one  of 
those  splendid  cogs  in  the  war  machine — a  Chief 


52  Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sain 

Petty  Officer,  who  wasn't  looking  for  glory  or 
honor  medals,  but  was  just  doing  his  job  to  the 
best  of  his  ability. 

Our  trip  over  had  been  mthout  thrills,  unless 
you  work  up  one  on  your  own  by  wondering  how 
it  happens  with  the  number  of  ships  at  sea  minus 
a  light  there  are  so  very  few  collisions.  That 
always  interested  me.  I  remember  one  black 
night  when  we  were  shipping  seas  over  the  fo'- 
ca'sle  that  were  sending  sprays  to  the  bridge. 
The  darkness  hung  about  us  like  a  velvet  cur- 
tain. As  far  as  we  knew  we  were  the  one  and 
only  bark  afloat  on  the  whole  Atlantic,  and  yet 
when  dawn  broke,  we  sighted  a  convoy  going  east. 
If  it  hadn't  been  for  pure  Yankee  luck  she  might 
have  been  in  the  same  latitude  as  we  were.  Had 
the  meeting  come  a  few  hours  earlier  or  our 
course  been  a  trifle  different  the  results  might 
never  have  been  told. 

But  that  is  side-stepping  my  story,  isn't  it? 
We  had  an  observation  balloon  attached  to  our 
ship,  which  we  flew  with  considerable  success  dur- 
ing the  first  part  of  the  voyage.    We  were  near- 


The  Stuff  Heroes  Are  Made  of  53 

ing  the  point  where  we  expected  to  join  the  ves- 
sels sent  out  from  France  to  meet  ns,  and  as  the 
captain  wanted  the  balloon  to  be  aloft  that  morn- 
ing, she  was  sent  np  a  good  bit  earlier  than  usual. 

It  was  a  squally,  rainy  morning — the  sort  you 
expect  in  the  North  Atlantic.  The  sea  was  rough, 
and  I  suppose  we  were  making  about  thirteen 
and  a  half  knots.  There  was  considerable  wind 
on  our  starboard  bow. 

In  the  balloon  basket  was  a  young  officer.  He 
understood  managing  the  big  bag,  so  we  sent  him 
up  about  a  thousand  feet.  We  passed  through  a 
rain  squall  and  the  balloon  rode  that  tip-top.  He 
telephoned  to  the  officers  below  that  he'd  like  to 
stay  up  for  a  while  as  the  wind  seemed  to  be 
dropping. 

About  a  half-hour  later  we  entered  another 
rain  squall.  It  was  a  nipping  cold  one— far  colder 
than  the  first.  The  combination  of  chilled  rain 
and  strong  wind  was  too  much  for  the  balloon. 
First  thing  we  knew  the  bag  had  crumpled  up  like 
a  crushed-in  derby.  And,  before  you  could  say 
"Jack  Robinson,"  down  she  flashed  like  a  shot, 


54  Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 


her  buoyancy  gone,  and  the  little  basket  sus- 
pended about  fifty  feet  below  her,  riding  the  crest 
of  the  big  waves  like  a  tub. 

Inside  the  basket,  busy  as  the  busiest  bee  that 
ever  came  out  of  a  hive,  was  that  young  officer, 
thromng  out  ballast  as  fast  as  the  good  Lord 
and  his  right  arm  would  let  him. 

It  had  the  desired  effect.  Up  rose  the  balloon, 
until  it  climbed  to  about  five  hundred  feet,  but 
with  its  ballast  gone  it  was  like  a  kite  without  a 
tail — a  wild  balloon  at  the  mercy  of  the  wind. 
That  was  a  sight  you  did  not  soon  forget!  All 
hands  were  on  deck  staring  up  with  bated  breath 
— a  few  tried  to  shout  advice,  but  the  gale 
drowned  out  their  voices  and  the  boy  in  the  bas- 
ket was  far  too  busy  hanging  on  for  his  life  to 
heed  us. 

The  facts  of  the  case  were  that  he  was  vir- 
tually a  prisoner,  with  the  ropes  so  twisted  about 
the  basket,  as  it  s\\aing  on  high  in  its  fantastic 
dance  of  death,  that  he  could  not  have  saved  him- 
self if  he  would.  We  didn't  get  onto  that  at  first. 
We  rather  expected  to  see  him  shoot  like  a  pro- 


Tlie  Stuff  Heroes  Are  Made  of         55 

jectile  through  the  air.  It  certainly  seemed  to  us 
that  he  must  be  the  one  exception  to  the  law  of 
gravitation,  for  by  all  rights  he  should  have  been 
hurled  earthward  at  least  a  hundred  times  by  that 
careening,  dipping  kite.  And  as  it  swung  and 
lunged  and  turned  over  on  itself  in  wild  contor- 
tions it  reminded  me  of  a  mad  beast  tugging  fran- 
tically at  its  leash  to  be  free. 

There  was  only  one  chance  of  saving  him  and 
that  chance  was  a  small  one  against  the  almost 
certain  sacrifice  of  many  lives.  To  stop  the  ship 
was  the  one  chance,  but  a  ship  with  engines  dead 
in  the  war  zone  is  a  first-class  target  for  the  subs, 
and  I  can  tell  you  that  any  man  with  the  respon- 
sibility of  hundreds  of  lives  on  his  shoulders  is 
loathe  to  give  the  order.  But  the  sight  of  that 
pitching,  rearing  devil,  with  its  fragile  cargo — one 
human  life — was  a  sight  no  man  could  well  resist, 
and  the  captain  finally  gave  the  order  to  slow 
down. 

We  went  aft.  The  balloon  hung  over  our  port 
quarter,  and,  as  we  drew  it  toward  the  ship,  we 
got  hold  of  a  trailing  line  from  the  nose  of  the 


56  Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 


bag.  The  big  kite  came  docilely  enough,  as 
though  it  were  tired  of  the  game  it  had  been  play- 
ing and  was  sorry  for  the  damage  it  had  done. 
But  the  basket,  with  the  man  inside,  was  in  the 
water,  half  submerged  and  in  great  danger  of  go- 
ing down  before  help  could  possibly  reach  him. 

Now  here  is  where  the  hero  part  of  the  story 
comes  in.  It  was  so  quietly  done  that  we  did  not 
know,  until  we  saw  a  man  flash  over  the  side  of 
the  ship  and  down  one  of  the  basket  lines,  that  a 
rescue  was  being  attempted. 

The  ship  still  had  headway  and  the  sea  was 
running  high,  neither  of  which  argued  well  for 
any  chap  trying  to  save  a  human  being  caught  fast 
in  a  maze  of  rope. 

The  basket  was  three-quarters  submerged.  The 
boy  inside  was  played  out  and  could  offer  no  help, 
but  the  C.  P.  0.,  clinging  fast  to  his  bobbing  goal, 
went  to  work  with  his  knife  and  a  singleness 
of  purpose  that  no  mere  raging  sea  could 
shake.  He  hacked  away  at  the  imprisoning  ropes, 
his  teeth  clenched,  and  at  last  crawled  into  the 
basket   and   got   a   bowline   under   the   officer's 


The  Stuff  Heroes  Are  Made  of 57 

shoulders.  We  hoisted  him  aboard,  and  while 
we  were  doing  it,  the  C.  P.  0.  clambered  up  to  the 
rail,  where  eager  hands  drew  him  over. 

But  he  did  not  want  our  praise.  It  embar- 
rassed him.  What  he  wanted  most  of  all  was  to 
get  into  dry  clothes  and  to  go  about  his  duties. 
Hero!  He  grinned  at  the  word.  Just  the  same, 
that  is  what  he  was — a  real  American  boy  with 
steady  nerves  and  quick  eye  and  plenty  of  pluck. 
Oh,  yes,  there  are  lots  of  heroes  at  large  these 
days,  but  they  do  hate  like  the  very  dickens  to 
have  you  call  them  that  to  their  face. 


CHIEF  YEOMAN  LANG 
SPEAKS : 


DEPTH  BOMBS  AND  DESTROYERS 

Eight  years  is  a  long  time  in  the  service.  But 
it  pays.  Yep.  Even  if  I  never  draw  a  conunis- 
sion  I'll  get  a  pension  of  one-third  my  full  pay 
after  another  eight  years,  and  if  I  stay  in  for 
thirty  years,  all  told,  I'll  pull  down  over  a  hun- 
dred dollars  a  month  for  the  rest  of  my  days — 
me — just  a  chief  yeoman.  Now,  that's  not  bad, 
is  it? 

I've  seen  quite  some  service.  You  know  about 
that  little  party  at  Vera  Cruz  last  year?  I  was 
right  there  in  the  front  row.  I've  always  been 
ready  for  a  scrap  provided  they  gave  me  destroyer 
duty.  Nothing  else  goes  with  me.  Once  you  get 
used  to  the  feel  of  that  rolling  deck  under  your 
feet  you  can 't  be  happy  on  any  other  bark  afloat ! 

There  is  nothing  speedier  or  lighter  on  the 

high  seas.    She  will  ride  the  waves  like  a  bottle 

that's  corked  up.    Not  following  the  trough  of  the 

swell  like  a  man  o'  war,  but  bobbing  right  over 

6i 


62  Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

the  white  caps  or  burying  her  nose  deep  in  the 
water  as  she  cuts  through. 

.  .  .  And  spray!  Say!  If  it  wasn't  for  the 
shield  around  the  f o 'c 'stle-gun,  you'd  swim  to 
Europe.  As  it  is  the  combers  sweep  the  deck  in 
rough  weather  like  a  young  Niagara.  High  boots 
help  you  some,  but  the  only  way  to  guarantee 
keeping  a  good  man  aboard  is  to  lash  him  to  the 
gun. 

There  is  a  temporary  shelter  for  the  gun  crew 
in  the  pilot  house,  but  say,  when  the  waves  get  too 
sassy  the  gunners  aren't  ashamed  to  rig  up  a  line 
which  they  hold  on  to  pretty  tight  let  me  tell  you, 
as  they  stand  by. 

Greatest  sport  in  the  world  to  have  an  ice-cold 
spray  breaking  over  your  deck.  Yes,  and  freez- 
ing so  hard  you  have  to  take  a  hatchet  and  chop 
it.  You  never  are  entirely  dry,  and  you're  never 
sure  each  minute  won't  be  your  last.  But,  say, 
you  wouldn't  change  places  with  a  commander  on 
the  biggest  warship  afloat! 

Queer,  how  you  come  to  love  the  bobbing  little 
devil.    I  guess  it's  human  nature.    The  more  can- 


Depth  Bombs  and  Destroyers 63 


tankerous  a  proposition  is  the  more  you  like  to 
handle  it.  And  salt  water  doesn't  hurt  you  any. 
Good  for  you.  Don't  they  give  you  salt  baths 
and  charge  you  a  stiff  price?  Well,  we  get  the 
treatment  free.    Pretty  soft,  I  call  it. 

We  had  a  great  crew.  I  was  chief  yeoman,  with 
a  job  of  clerk,  and  in  time  of  action  I  had  to  work 
the  range-finder.  I  was  pretty  busy,  but  I  did 
have  time  to  ring  in  a  few  laughs  at  the  ship's 
pet.  He  was  a  Swede — Ole  Hjalmar,  and  big! 
Say,  he  was  eight  feet  high — or,  anyway,  six-two, 
with  a  voice  like  a  bull.  He  was  mostly  ears, 
and  he  had  blond  hair  and  high  cheek  bones.  His 
face  was  red  from  the  high  winds.  It  browns 
mine,  but  it  made  him  look  like  a  ripe  tomato. 

He  hated  his  pink  cheeks.  We  used  to  guy  him 
about  them,  but  most  of  all  we  made  fun  of  the 
big  gold  rings  in  his  ears,  and  say,  I  don't  think 
there  was  a  square  inch  of  him  that  wasn't  tat- 
tooed— stars  and  pigs  and  anchors  and  eagles  all 
over  him  I 

Education  didn't  bother  him  any.  The  only 
writing  he  did  in  the  twenty  years'  service  was  to 


64  Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

sign  his  name  to  his  pay  checks.  But  he  was 
always  ready  with  a  laugh.  He  was  boatswain's 
mate  and  his  job  was  official  scrubwoman  and  then 
when  an  officer  gave  command  he  had  to  pass  the 
word. 

I  remember  one  day  we  were  expecting  to  make 
port  that  afternoon.  It  was  wash-day  and  as  we 
changed  our  course  it  happened  that  the  clothes 
we  had  hung  out  in  the  sun  to  dry  found  them- 
selves in  the  shade.  Our  bags  were  still  wet,  so 
Ole  was  told  to  pass  the  word  to  the  men  to  shift 
their  clothes  to  the  other  side  of  the  ship. 

**Aye,  aye,  sir,"  boomed  Ole's  big  bass, — then 
he  gave  the  command. 

"All  you  men  who  iss  got  clothes  ver  de  sun 
isn't  iss,  put  'em  ver  de  sun  iss  iss.  ..." 

Say,  that  got  us!  and  Ole  never  did  hear  the 
end  of  **ver  de  sun  iss  iss."  That  was  all  right, 
as  it  turned  out,  but  next  time — well,  this  is  what 
happened. 

We  anchored  in  an  English  port  and  like  every 
good  "bloomin'  bloody  Yank,"  as  our  British 
cousins  call  us,  we  got  out  our  bats  and  balls  ready 


ft 


■Ji 


u 


C3 

o 


pi 

•  I— I 
I 

CO 

«3 


bO 


pq 


Depth  Bombs  and  Destroyers  6.5 

to  play  United  States  baseball.  We  had  four 
cracking  good  teams  on  the  ship.  The  first  and 
fourth  would  play,  then  the  second  and  third. 
The  competition  was  pretty  close  and  we  were 
tickled  to  death  when  the  American  Consul  got  a 
tract  of  land  for  us  and  we  went  ashore  to  show 
those  Johnnies  a  regular  game,  after  watching 
cricket  for  an  hour  or  two. 

Well,  after  several  days  of  games,  some  of  the 
men  began  abusing  their  shore  privileges,  and 
the  officers  knocked  it  off  and  kept  us  aboard — 
no  liberty  at  all ! 

Gee,  we  certainly  longed  to  get  off  the  boat. 
There  was  land  only  a  hand's  throw  away — and 
there  was  a  whole  diamond  going  to  waste  and 
games  tied.  One  afternoon,  after  talking  the  mat- 
ter over,  we  plucked  up  courage  and  drew  lots.  It 
fell  on  me  to  go  up  to  the  Officer  of  the  Deck  and 
ask  for  a  Recreation  Party. 

I  did. 

He  didn't  waste  any  breath  at  all.  **No,''  he 
said,  so  I  slunk  back  to  my  mates.  But  we  didn't 
let  the  matter  rest.    Every  ten  minutes  another 


66  Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 


one  of  us  would  march  up  with  the  same  request. 
The  0.  D.  got  sore.    Ole  was  on  watcK. 

*'Pass  the  word,"  the  0.  D.  commanded 
crisply,  "No  Recreation  Party  whatsoever!'* 

Ole  did. 

*^No  Recreation  Party  what's  er  matter?"  he 
hollered. 

That  finished  him.  He  lost  a  rank  on  account 
of  it.    Poor  Ole,  he  got  in  dutch  for  fair ! 

We  were  convoying  merchant  and  troop  ships, 
going  out  to  meet  them  and  bringing  them  back 
to  port.  We  started  out  one  cold  October  day  with 
a  raging  gale  blowing.  The  sea  was  like  a  seeth- 
ing caldron — the  waves  were  mountain  high. 
We  had  on  all  the  warm  things  we  owned,  but,  at 
that,  we  were  ice  wherever  the  water  struck  us. 

I  was  muffled  to  the  eyes.  Esquimos  had  noth- 
ing on  me  and  I  could  see  we  were  in  for  some 
stiff  duty.  It  wasn't  a  matter  of  one  day— it  was 
a  matter  of  eight  days  on  a  raging  sea— no 
chance  to  take  oif  your  socks  even— life-preserv- 
ers on  every  minute  of  the  time — watching  out 
sharp  for  Fritz. 


Depth  Bombs  and  Destroyers  67 

A  flock  of  us  met  the  ships  we  were  to  bring  in 
and  we  started  to  steam  back  to  our  base,  when 
we  had  the  shock  of  our  lives  I 

It  was  early  morning,  barely  light.  The  sky 
was  a  gray  line,  as  if  you  took  a  paint  brush  and 
slapped  a  streak  from  east  to  west.  The  water 
was  gray  and  we  men  on  the  bridge  rubbed  our 
eyes,  for  right  in  front  of  us,  not  five  hundred 
away — standing  out  black  against  the  sky — ^was  a 
German  submarine. 

We  figured  she  had  laid  there  all  night — and 
was  going  to  send  our  flagship  to  the  bottom  if 
she  could — but  she  couldn't  have  looked  over  her 
shoulder,  because  she  didn't  seem  to  know  we 
were  there. 

Well,  we  were  after  her  like  a  streak  of  greased 
lightning.  That  was  just  what  we  had  been  pray- 
ing for;  as  we  charged  her  we  fired;  we  were 
almost  on  top  of  her,  trying  to  ram  her,  when  she 
submerged;  we  passed  right  over  her  as  she 
went  down;  you  could  see  the  bubbles  and 
spray. 

Then  we  launched  our  depth  charges — "ash 


68  Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sain 

cans,"  as  we  call  them.  They  look  like  a  ten- 
gallon  drum.  You  set  them  off  when  you  are 
traveling  full  speed  right  above  your  blooming 
submarine — fifteen  knots  we  were  making. 

Quick!  Say,  it's  the  speediest  work  in  the 
world,  because,  once  your  charges  are  dropped, 
you  have  to  beat  it  or  get  blown  up  yourself — as 
it  is  you  can  feel  the  explosion  for  yards  around. 
Well,  we  dropped  four — and  got  out  of  the  way. 
As  for  the  sub  .  .  .  zowy!  Up  she  came  to  the 
surface,  ripped  wide  open.  Then  she  stood  up  on 
her  end  and  sank  as  if  somebody  had  pulled  her 
down  by  the  tail. 

One  man  of  the  German  crew  floated  out  of  her 
before  she  sank  for  all  time,  and  Ole,  before  we 
could  stop  him,  had  lashed  a  rope  around  him- 
self and  was  overboard  hauling  him  in.  The 
German  was  dead,  so  he  couldn't  give  us  any  in- 
formation. Worse  luck!  But  we  didn't  let  that 
make  us  feel  blue.  I  tell  you  we  were  a  pretty 
pleased  bunch.  You  feel  good  all  over  when  you 
get  a  German  sub.  They  are  so  blamed  much  like 
a  crook  waiting  in  a  dark  alley  to  stab  a  man  in 


Depth  Bombs  and  Destroyers 69 

the  back.    You  owe  it  to  society  to  knock  him  out 
good  and  proper. 

Yep,  great  crew  ours.  Some  say  destroyer  duty 
takes  nerve,  but  the  reason  I  like  it  is  that 
you  don't  feel  like  sleeping  on  your  j-ob;  you're 
just  too  blamed  afraid  you'll  miss  the  thrill  of 
your  life  if  you  do.  It's  a  great  life  I  Take  it 
from  me  I 


HOSPITAL  APPRENTICE  DUDLEY 
SPEAKS : 


IN  TRAINING 

I  didn't  know  what  I  wanted  to  enlist  in — I 
didn't  care.  All  I  thought  about  was  that  war 
was  declared.  That  set  my  New  England  blood 
boiling,  I  suppose,  and  I  didn't  waste  any  time. 
I  happened  to  be  in  Baltimore.  I  scooted  down 
to  a  recruiting  station  and  joined  the  Navy. 

They  asked  me  what  branch  of  service  I  wanted 
to  go  in  for.  I  said  I  didn't  give  a  hang  just 
so  long  as  I'd  get  a  chance  to  go  across  and  do  a 
thing  or  two  to  the  Huns.  They  chose  the  Hos- 
pital Corps  for  me.  It  sounded  all  right.  I  didn't 
dream  of  the  hard  work  I  was  letting  myself  in 
for. 

After  I'd  left  the  station  I  called  up  mother 
on  long  distance.  She  was  visiting  in  Connecticut. 
I  told  her  I  had  joined.  She  said  she  knew  I 
would  and  that  she  was  glad  I  had  not  waited  a 
day.     That's  mother  all  over  for  you.     I  think 


74  Over  the  Seas  for   Uncle  Sam 

every  ancestor  she  ever  had  fought  in  some  war 
or  other.    No  slackers  in  this  family  I 

It  was  April.  I  had  on  an  nnlined  suit  and  a 
light  cravenette  when  three  hundred  of  us  left 
Baltimore  at  eleven  next  day.  We  were  going 
to  Newport.  At  five  that  afternoon  we  took  the 
Fall  Kiver  line.  It  was  pretty  chilly  then.  I  kept 
wondering  why  the  dickens  I  hadn't  brought 
along  an  overcoat — but  you  didn't  speak  about 
being  cold,  although  I'll  bet  three-fourths  of  the 
men  on  that  boat  were  chattering.  We  were  in 
the  navy  now — fine  sailors  we'd  make  if  we  com- 
plained about  a  chill! 

We  arrived  in  Newport  between  four  and  five 
in  the  morning,  and  anchored  until  daybreak.  I 
thought  it  would  never  come.  The  sky  was  gray- 
ish. I  hadn't  slept  all  night  and  I  was  beginning 
to  wish  we  'd  get  somewhere  where  I  could  turn  in 
for  a  good  rest,— but  no  such  luck. 

A  petty  ofiicer  met  us  at  the  steamer  pier,  tak- 
ing us  over  in  a  little  government  boat  to  Coaster 
Island.  We  landed  at  the  Government  Pier  and 
there  we  lined  up.     There  was  a  queer  old  tub 


In  Training  75 


anchored  nearby.  I  asked  someone  what  it  was, 
and  he  told  me  that  I  was  gazing  upon  the  old 
frigate  Constellation,  which  fought  in  the  war  of 
1812  and  is  now  used  as  a  signal  school.  She  cer- 
tainly looked  out  of  date.  I  wondered  if  our 
snappy  sub  chasers  would  look  as  clumsy  as  that 
in  another  hundred  years. 

We  marched  to  the  receiving  building  and  stood 
around  on  the  outside.  I  didn't  know  a  soul  there, 
but  three  of  us  were  Hospital  Corps,  and  we  sort 
of  stuck  together.  The  rest  were  a  mixture. 
There  were  ''sparks"  that's  what  they  call  the 
radio  wireless  men;  and  electricians;  and  there 
were  "chips" — that's  carpenters — and  there  were 
some  of  the  "black  gang,"  which  are  what  the 
firemen  are  called,  unless  it's  "coalheavers."  As 
for  us,  we  were  the  "iodine  crew."  It's  a  good 
name,  all  right. 

Each  draft  was  called  in  in  turn.  A  C.P.O. 
would  come  to  the  door  and  bawl,  "All  right,  all 
New  York  draft  in,"  and  they'd  waltz  in  while  we 
waited  and  wondered  how  soon  before  we  could 
sleep. 


76  Over  the  Seas  for   Uncle  Sam 

After  a  while  they  called  Baltimore,  and  we 
went  inside,  turned  over  our  papers,  and  were 
sent  to  an  adjoining  room  to  receive  the  Navy 
hair-cut. 

Say,  talk  about  speed!  Liberty  motors  have 
got  nothing  on  those  four  barbers.  You  no  sooner 
sat  down  tlian — snip-snip-snip — and — ' '  Next ! ' ' 
Then  you  signed  your  name,  but  what  the  barber 
wanted  with  all  our  autographs  I  never  have  been 
able  to  make  out.  Perhaps  he  figures  some  of  us 
may  become  great  heroes  and  he  '11  sell  the  signa- 
tures for  a  young  fortune  some  day. 

In  the  adjoining  room  we  removed  our  clothes 
so  that  they  could  be  disinfected  and  sent  home. 
Then  we  took  a  shower.  At  times  the  water  was 
very  warm,  then  suddenly  it  would  get  cold  as 
ice.  They  certainly  believed  in  variety  being 
the  spice  of  life. 

We  were  vaccinated  next,  a  long  line  of  us. 
And  some  were  so  scared  they  just  curled  up  and 
fainted.  But  I  got  through  and  went  in  for  my 
medical  exam.  If  you  don't  pass  it  right  there 
you  are  rejected,  but  if  you  only  have  depressed 


In  Training  77 


arches,  or,  say,  stooping  shoulders,  they  let  you 
through.  They  know  navy  life  will  fix  that  0.  K. 
Just  do  setting  up  exercises  for  a  few  months  and 
you  '11  gain  a  ton ! 

Then  we  were  measured  for  our  uniforms  and 
they  were  handed  out  to  us :  two  suits  of  mnter 
underwear,  two  pair  of  woollen  socks,  a  navy 
sweater,  a  blue  dress  uniform  and  two  white 
undress  uniforms,  shoes,  hairbrush,  clothes, 
**kiyi,"  which,  in  plain  English,  is  a  clothes  brush, 
shoe  cleaning  gear,  needle  and  thread  and  thim- 
ble, six  pocket  handkerchiefs,  a  neckerchief,  a 
pocket  knife,  two  white  hats,  a  watch  cap  and  a  flat 
hat.  Then  you  get  your  bedding :  a  mattress,  two 
pair  of  blankets,  your  hammock  and  your  duffle- 
bag.  Believe  me,  the  mattress  looked  good  to  me. 
I  could  see  myself  drifting  off  into  slumber  in  a 
gently  swaying  hammock.  .  .  . 

They  marched  us  to  a  Detention  Barracks.  You 
are  not  supposed  to  leave  there  until  you  get  per- 
mission, in  case  someone  breaks  out  with  smallpox 
or  yellow  fever. 

Everything    was    complete    in    the    barracks. 


78  Over  the  Seas  for   Uncle  Sam 

Meals  were  cooked  in  a  regular  galley ;  there  were 
showers,  mess  room  and  sleeping  rooms.  Very 
nifty! 

A  little,  fat  C.P.O.  with  a  bald  head  came  in 
and  instructed  us  how  to  clue  our  hammocks.  It 
didn't  seem  hard.  We  were  pretty  proud  of  the 
job — all  twenty  of  us. 

By  that  time  we  could  have  eaten  whale  oil 
with  a  relish,  and  a  squad  of  four  went  for  chow, 
while  the  other  fellows  pitched  in  and  laid  out 
the  mess  gear.  That  navy  stew  certainly  smelled 
good!  The  squad  dished  us  out  big  portions  of 
it  and  that,  with  hot  coffee,  made  us  feel  like  new 
men. 

After  we  had  finished  four  men  washed  up  the 
mess  gear  and  the  rest  of  us  turned  to  and  swept 
down  the  room.  The  little  C.P.O.  bounced  in 
again  and  fixed  up  our  watch  for  us — two  fel- 
lows on  guard,  each  standing  two  hours.  The 
Chief  posted  the  first  watchman,  and  taps  began 
blowing  as  we  started  in  stringing  our  hammocks. 

It  was  great  sport.  Everyone  had  a  theory 
about  it,  but  we  were  told  that,  whatever  we  did. 


In  Training  79 


we  must  get  the  hammocks  straight,  because  a 
sagging  hammock  is  death  on  the  back. 

At  nine,  to  the  dot,  lights  were  out.  It  was 
pitch  black  in  our  room.  Somewhere  outside  one 
feeble  standing  light  flickered,  but  inside,  nothing 
doing. 

Remember,  these  hammocks  are  about  seven 
feet  above  ground — say,  the  fun  started  right 
there.  How  to  get  up  in  them  was  some  problem. 
Each  man  thought  of  a  way  of  doing  it,  and,  in  the 
first  rush,  one  or  two  made  it,  but  the  rest  of  us 
only  got  a  leg  up  and  swung  there  before  drop- 
ping back  to  earth. 

Everyone  was  hollering  suggestions  and  trying 
to  get  a  grip  on  the  blamed  things.  It  wouldn't 
have  been  so  hard  if  the  hammocks  hadn't  moved 
— but  they  almost  acted  as  though  they  had  sense 
— ^hanged  if  they  didn't.  They'd  bob  this  way  and 
that,  and  the  moment  you  got  up — ^well 

After  three  or  four  attempts  I  made  it.  I  got 
in  all  right,  but,  before  I  could  settle  down,  over 
it  turned  with  me — spilling  out  everything  I 
owned,  me  included.     I  scrambled  around  pick- 


80  Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

ing  up  what  I  could  in  the  dark,  and  what  I 
said  wouldn't  be  passed  by  the  Board  of  Censors. 

I  piled  the  things  in  again  and  crawled  back 
— pretty  cautious  this  time.  I  rolled  up  my 
clothes  for  a  pillow  and  lay  on  my  back,  grip- 
ping both  sides  of  my  little  old  bed.  That's  the 
way  I  slept — or  rather  didn't  sleep.  All  through 
the  night  there  were  thump-thumps,  as  someone 
fell  out  and  hit  the  deck. 

When  I  heard  reveille  next  morning  I  was  so 
stiff  I  could  scarcely  move  a  muscle.  I  wasn't 
the  only  one  though.  We  looked  at  each  other  and 
wondered  if  ever  under  the  blue  sky  we  would  get 
the  hang  of  sleeping  in  something  that  turned 
over  every  time  you  hitched  a  bit. 

We  cleaned  up  the  quarters  and  spread  our 
blankets  and  mattresses  to  air.  It  was  bitter  cold. 
We  huddled  close  to  the  steam  pipes  and  certainly 
(tackled  the  chow  for  all  it  was  worth  when  it  ap- 
peared about  six  a.  m. 

After  breakfast  we  lashed  our  hammocks,  and  I 
told  mine  a  thing  or  two  as  I  tied  it  up.  Then 
we  listened  to  the  C.P.O.  giving  us  our  first  talk 


A  sniff  of  ''cliow." 


I7i  Training  81 


on  regulations.  We  wondered  if  we'd  ever  re- 
member half  the  things  he  was  telling  ns. 

As  soon  as  he  was  out  of  sight,  in  trotted  the 
ship's  tailor  with  a  portable  sewing  machine. 
Funny  little  man,  so  intent  on  his  tiny  task  of 
sewing  little  strips  of  white  cloth  inside  our 
clothes  for  marking.  I  suppose  he  felt  as  impor- 
tant in  his  way  as  the  Navigator. 

Somebody  passed  out  stencils  with  our  names 
on  them,  and  the  C.P.O.,  rather  out  of  breath  from 
scooting  all  over  the  station,  dropped  in  long 
enough  to  tell  us  how  to  mark  our  clothes — then 
lie  was  off  on  the  wing.  Busiest  man  I  ever  saw. 
I  bet  he  lost  ten  pounds  a  morning.  Well,  he 
could  afford  to. 

We  were  dying  for  lunch.  Ton  are  always 
ready  to  eat  in  the  navy,  and  the  food  is  great. 
Lots  of  it,  too.  A  new  bunch  of  men  had  arrived 
— we  felt  like  veterans  as  we  gave  them  a  hand 
at  cluing  their  hammocks — and  say,  advice !  We 
told  them  all  there  was  to  know  about  climbing  into 
your  swinging  bed. 

That  night,  when  I  crawled  in,  I  found  I  could. 


82  Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

manage  much  better.  I  was  dead  to  the  world,  and 
I  slept  the  sleep  of  the  jnst.  Nothing  short  of 
reveille  or  an  earthquake  could  have  made  me  open 
an  eye. 

Next  morning  we  parted  from  our  room-mates. 
In  peace  times  you  are  supposed  to  spend  twenty- 
one  days  in  detention.  This  was  war,  so  we  had 
spent  three.  We  were  to  be  shipped  straight  off 
to  our  respective  division  stations. 

We  Hospital  Corps  men  reported  to  the  Head 
doctor  and  were  assigned  to  classrooms.  Tt 
seemed  queer  to  be  going  to  class  again,  after 
you'd  been  out  making  your  living  for  a  few 
years  in  business,  but  we  got  used  to  it.  The 
lecture  was  on  regulations,  then  they  marched  us 
over  to  Barracks  B,  our  new  home.  We  three 
from  Baltimore  stuck  together.  AVe  were  all  as- 
signed to  quarters  on  the  second  deck — it's  really 
the  second  floor,  but  you  don't  call  them  that  in 
the  navy. 

It  was  a  big  place,  but  with  a  hundred  and 
fifty  men  in  it  there  was  scarcely  room  to  turn 
around — packed  like  sardines.    We  found  a  tiny 


In  Training  83 


space  up  by  a  window  and  put  up  our  hammocks. 
Supper  was  in   the  mess  hall,  then  back  we'd 

go  to  school  for  a  lecture;  after  that  you 
could  study  or  write  letters  until  nine  o'clock 
and  taps. 

We  were  up  at  five  every  morning,  chow  at  six- 
thirty,  mustered  at  seven-fifteen,  and  marched 
down  to  school  in  time  to  clean  the  lecture  rooms 
inside  and  outside.  Spick  and  span  is  the  watch- 
word of  the  navy.  You  get  so  you  wonder  how 
you  ever  lived  inside  of  a  house  that  didn't  sbine 
from  top  to  bottom. 

We  didn't  have  to  know  much  to  pass  exams — 
oh,  no !  Only  Anatomy  and  Physiology,  and  First 
Aid,  and  Minor  Surgery,  and  Operating  Room 
Technique,  and  Nursing,  and  Hospital  Manage- 
ment, and  Pharmacy,  and  Materia  Medica,  and 
Toxicologies,  and  Chemistry,  and  Litter  Drill,  be- 
sides a  little  **lab"  work  in  the  compounding  of 
medicines.  Oh,  no — ^anyone  could  learn  that  with 
one  eye  shut! 

I  stayed  in  Barracks  B  for  three  weeks,  then  the 
government  sent  down  some  big  circus  tents  hold- 


84  Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

ing  about  one  hundred  and  fifty,  and  we  pitched 
them.  We  slept  on  cots  for  a  change.  Queer  how 
we  had  to  get  used  to  them.  Hanged  if  we  didn't 
long  for  our  hammocks. 

I  remember  one  night  when  we  had  a  bear  of  a 
storm — a  regular  gale — and  sure  enough  the  old 
tent  began  to  leak.  I  happened  to  be  on  watch 
so  I  spent  about  two  hours  going  around  keeping 
a  sharp  lookout  for  leakff — there  were  plenty  of 
them.  As  wet  a  crowd  of  boys  as  I  ever  saw  came 
forth,  and  I  sent  them  to  the  lecture  rooms  to 
sleep.  Funniest  looking  gang,  sleepy  and  cross, 
their  blankets  around  their  shoulders  dripping 
water.    They  made  a  run  for  the  deck. 

About  twelve  I  woke  my  relief  and  started  to 
turn  in.  There  was  no  leak  over  my  bed  and  I 
was  half  undressed  when  something  rolled  down 
my  back.  I  beat  it  for  the  school.  Not  ten  min- 
utes later  the  whole  tent  collapsed,  with  thirty 
men  in  it.  Rescue  parties  were  formed,  and  the 
men  inside  needed  it — a  small  Niagara  had  swept 
in  on  top  of  them. 

But  no  one  seemed  any  the  worse  for  it.    We 


In  Training  85 


were  a  hardened  lot  by  that  time.  I  thought  of 
the  day  I  had  left  Baltimore  and  the  way  I  had 
shivered  with  the  cold — ^here  I  was,  only  a  few 
weeks  later,  only  half  dressed,  drenched  to  the 
skin  and  not  minding  it  a  bit.  The  training  had 
done  wonders  for  me. 

Next  day  a  pile  of  lumber  arrived — we  carried 
it  from  the  wharf  to  the  Barracks  and  we  were 
informed  that  after  school  we  would  find  nails — 
plenty  of  them — one  saw  and  one  hammer  for  two 
hundred  men  to  lay  the  floor,  upright  and  erect 
tents  before  taps.  Say,  that  was  a  staggerer! 
But  orders  were  orders  and  we  fell  to.  What  did 
we  do?  Why,  we  got  rocks  or  pipes  or  anything 
you  could  use  for  a  hammer  and  with  two  hun- 
dred huskies  working  at  top  speed  just  to  show 
the  CO.  that  they  can  do  a  thing  once  they  make 
up  their  mind  to  it,  we  got  those  tents  up  that 
night  right  as  a  top  I 

Luckily  for  me,  my  site  was  'way  up  on  Straw- 
berry Hill,  back  of  the  hospital,  and  with  the 
crackingest  view  of  Narragansett  Bay — and  a 
distant  glimpse  of  the  Atlantic.    It  was  a  wonder- 


86  Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

ful  life  up  there.  We'd  become  so  used  to  ont- 
doors  that  we  used  to  talk  about  how  strange  it 
would  feel  to  live  in  four  walls  again.  We  took 
everj^thing  as  it  came  and  enjoyed  it.  The  gov- 
ernment certainly  did  all  in  its  power  to  make 
things  comfortable.  We  used  to  wonder  how  the 
Sam  Hill  all  the  busy  people  up  in  Washington 
could  keep  every  one  of  us  in  mind  and  see  that 
we  were  all  supplied.  It  is  a  queer  feeling — that 
sensation  that  you  don't  have  to  worry  about  to- 
morrow or  what  it  will  bring,  that  you  are 
clothed  and  fed  and  housed — and  that  your  only 
problems  are  the  ones  that  may  come  with  the 
rising  sun.    Great  life ! 

Other  camps  were  all  around  us.  The  Yeo- 
man's camp,  the  Seamen's  camp — nothing  but 
bluejackets  from  morning  until  night.  We  won- 
dered if  the  whole  TJ.  S.  Navy  were  there — it 
didn't  seem  as  if  there  could  be  any  more  sailors 
in  the  world. 

The  Hospital  Corps  didn't  have  much  drilling 
to  do,  just  squad  movements  and  litter  drills  and 
counter-marching.     We  used  to  parade  through 


In  Training  87 


Newport  to  boom  recruiting,  and  on  Saturday  the 
whole  school  turned  out  for  Captain's  inspection 
on  the  green  in  front  of  the  War  College. 

There  was  so  much  to  learn  that  we  spent  most 
of  our  liberties  in  the  study  hall,  but  once  in  a 
while  we  would  drop  in  at  the  Army-Navy  Y,  M., 
or  go  down  to  beaches  for  a  swim,  or  take  in  a 
show. 

At  the  end  of  three  months  we  were  through  a 
course  that  takes,  as  a  rule,  eight  months.  Then 
I  went  to  the  Naval  Hospital  and  there  I  made  my 
rate.  Gee,  but  I'm  glad  I'm  going  over  at  last. 
There's  a  girl  down  in  Baltimore — ^I've  promised 
her  some  souvenirs.  Some  of  the  fellows  have 
been  back  and  forth  eight  times  without  a  glimpse 
of  a  submarine — ^but  I  hope  we  see  one.  I'd  like 
to  tell  it  what  I  think  of  it. 

Yes,  we're  leaving  pretty  soon  now.  I'll  tell 
you  aU  about  it  when  I  get  back. 


CHIEF  PETTY  OFFICER  BERTRAM 
SPEAKS : 


ZEPS  AND  TORPEDOES 

I  JOINED  the  navy  because  I  felt  patriotic  and 
all  the  rest  of  it.  Ton  conldn't  help  it  down  home. 
Everybody  was  doing  it.  My  brother-in-law  made 
the  yeomanry,  my  chum  went  in  for  hospital  corps 
work.  Wherever  you  turned  you  found  fellows 
discussing  their  branch  of  service  and  swearing 
it  was  the  best  in  the  pack.  It  didn't  take  me 
long  to  make  up  my  mind.  I  sure  was  crazy  to 
get  **over  there." 

It's  the  English  in  me,  I  guess.  Yes,  IVe  got 
quite  a  slice.  Before  the  war  I  was  thirty-third 
in  direct  line  for  the  title  of  Earl  of  Northumber- 
land.   Now  I  am  about  seventeenth. 

It's  queer  how  much  I  wanted  to  go  to  London. 
I  just  itched  to.  My  family  had  come  from  Nova 
Scotia  to  Louisiana  and  settled  there.  That's 
where  I  was  born — Johnny  Eebs,  you  know.  But 
that's  ancient  history— just  plain  all-round  Amer- 
ican now. 

91 


92  Over  the  Seas  for   Uncle  Sam 

I  never  had  a  chance  to  forget  the  English  part 
of  me,  though.  I  conldn  't  very  well.  You  see  the 
solicitors  send  me  a  notice  every  now  and  then 
telling  me  how  good  my  chances  are  of  inheriting 
a  thirty-three-million  dollar  estate  and  a  couple  of 
dozen  titles  on  the  side. 

Well,  I  don't  care  what  I  shipped  on  so  long 
as  it  had  a  prow  and  a  stern  and  kept  afloat.  They 
held  me  three  months  in  the  naval  station  waiting 
for  a  ship,  and  at  last  I  got  one — and  what  a  one ! 
An  old  oil  tank!  Ever  see  an  oil  collier?  It  re- 
sembles one  of  the  countries  of  Europe.  Which 
one?    Greece. 

Grease  everywhere.  You  eat  grease  and  you 
drink  grease  and  you  sleep  grease  and  you  breathe 
grease.  You  never  get  it  olf  your  hands  or  your 
clothes  or  your  disposition  until  you  land. 

I  was  commissary.  That  meant  I  had  charge 
of  the  cook  and  bought  supplies  and  dished  out 
food  and  made  up  the  bill  of  fare.  But  I  might 
as  well  have  saved  myself  the  trouble  of  that, 
because  every  little  thing  tasted  alike.  Why 
wouldn't  it,  with  eighty-three  barrels  of  oil  on 
board? 


Zeps  and  Torpedoes  93 

None  of  us  wore  our  uniforms.  What  was  the 
use  ?  We  were  saving  them  for  London  or  Paris, 
and  it's  lucky  we  did !  Instead,  we  slapped  on  our 
overalls — "dungarees,"  we  call  them  in  the  navy. 
We  looked  like  a  crowd  of  rough-necks,  instead  of 
a  crew  of  snappy  bluejackets. 

We  left  some  time  in  September,  and  steamed 
up  to  Nova  Scotia,  then  across.  We  had  a  speedy 
ship,  all  right.  Eight  knots  was  the  best  she  was 
known  to  make.  Say,  did  it  give  you  the  jumps ! 
It  sure  did!  I  could  walk  a  heap  faster  than 
that  old  tug  could  steam  at  full  speed.  It  seemed 
as  though  every  raider  and  submarine  in  the  Zone 
would  line  up  in  a  row  and  take  a  shot  or  two  at  us 
— ^it  was  too  easy  to  miss. 

We  had  rough  weather  all  the  way.  That  and 
grease  are  about  all  that  happened  until  we  hit 
the  Zone.  There  we  met  our  convoy — a  British 
flagship,  a  number  of  merchantmen,  and  a  flock 
of  torpedo  boats. 

My  pal  was  a  fellow  from  Newark,  New  Jersey, 
Bill  Willsie.    He  was  out  for  excitement. 

"I  certainly  hope  something  will  break  before 


94  Over  the  seas  for   Uncle  Sam 

we  land/'  he'd  say,  **so  that  I  can  have  a  real 
yarn  to  spin  for  the  folks  back  home. ' ' 

He  got  his  wish.  It  was  the  fourth  day  in  the 
Zone,  at  five  twenty-seven  in  the  afternoon.  I  was 
on  deck  sniffing  air  that  wasn't  full  of  grease. 
Suddenly  I  saw  the  red  flag  go  up  to  the  mast. 
.  .  .  Danger!  .  .  .  Gee,  I  sure  did  wish  Bill 
hadn't  wished  for  trouble  out  loud.  I  wondered 
which  one  of  us  would  get  it — the  British  flag- 
ship ahead  of  us,  or  the  merchantmen  behind. 

It  all  happened  in  the  fraction  of  a  minute.  I 
saw  scudding  across  the  water  the  black  nose  of  a 
torpedo.  You  've  heard  of  men  having  a  premoni- 
tion of  death,  but  how  about  seeing  it  coming 
straight  toward  you  at  the  rate  of  thirty  miles  an 
hour! 

My  God!  I'll  never  forget  it!  I  thought  my 
heart  had  stopped  beating.  I  gripped  the  railing 
and  waited.  She  struck  the  flagship  and  sank 
her  in  seven  and  a  half  minutes.  To  this  day  I 
can  see  her  going  down — the  explosion — the  roar 
— ^the  sudden  list — the  boats  lowered,  and,  on  the 
bridge,  two  figures  pacing — pacing — the  captain 
and  the  admiral. 


Zeps  and  Torpedoes 95 


Do  you  think  they  left  their  ship?  Not  they! 
Up  and  do^vn — np  and  down — those  two  paced. 
Oh,  I  tell  you  the  British  are  a  great  people,  but 
I  mshed  to  God,  as  I  stood  there,  that  I  had  never 
had  to  see  it  proved  to  me  that  way. 

Up  and  down  they  walked,  talking  together  as 
though  nothing  out  of  the  way  were  happening. 
I  saw  the  ship  settle  for  her  last  heave.  No,  they 
didn't  leave  her  bridge.  Why  not?  They  were 
true  British  naval  officers,  that's  the  answer. 
They  sank  with  her. 

By  that  time  every  alarm  on  our  ship  was 
sounded — five  long  whistles,  electric  bells,  a  reg- 
ular bedlam  let  loose.  I  never  heard  such  a  noise. 
The  life-boats  swung  out  ready  to  drop.  All 
hands  were  on  deck  except  the  engineers.  They 
stand  by  in  the  engine  room  until  a  ship  is  struck. 
As  soon  as  she  is  hit  their  job  is  to  put  out  the 
fires  and  turn  off  the  water — that  is,  if  they  aren't 
blown  into  the  middle  of  next  week  first. 

About  eighty  yards  away  the  submarine  came 
up  and  fired  point  blank  at  us.  She  missed  us 
again  and  she  submerged.    That  was  the  last  we 


96         Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

saw  of  her.  The  destroyers  were  working  like 
little  flashes  of  lightning,  picking  up  the  men  in 
the  water,  darting  here  and  there.  You've  seen 
those  dragon  flies  in  the  pools — that's  what  the 
little  gray  fellows  were,  dragon  flies — here,  there, 
everywhere.    I  never  saw  such  quick  work. 

Along  about  eight  we  pulled  into  Dover.  All 
dark,  except  for  a  few  smothered  lights.  We  an- 
chored and  went  up  on  deck.  We  were  pretty 
glad  to  have  land  so  near.  You  felt  a  lot  safer. 
The  comfort  didn't  last  long,  for  we  heard  the 
queerest  buzz  in  the  sky  above  us — a  long  hum. 

''Zeps!  By  Cracky!"  yelled  Bill  in  my  ear. 
''We're  in  for  an  air  raid!" 

Out  of  the  blackness  of  the  city  before  us  leaped 
a  million  lights,  cutting  the  darkness  like  a  knife, 
hunting — hunting  for  those  Zeps.  Searchlights 
turning  their  yellow  blaze  on  the  sky,  whisking 
from  one  point  to  another,  relentless  in  their  scour 
of  the  heavens.  , 

Now  and  then  they  would  spot  one  of  the  great 
black  bugs  that  buzzed  on  high  with  that  torment- 
ing hum   keep  it  for  a  second  in  the  radius  of 


73 

■  I-H 


o 

,—i 

i— I 

o 

Ph 

03 

(33 


O 


o 


Zeps  and  Torpedoes  97 

light,  losing  it  as  suddenly,  and  all  the  while  the 
machine  guns  in  the  city  pop-popped  without 
taldng  a  breath. 

Now  and  then  from  the  sky  would  be  hurled  a 
black  something  that  flamed  and  thundered  as  it 
struck  earth.  .  .  .  Bombs!  .  .  .  Their  red  glare 
lighting  up  a  roof — a  cornice — a  water  front — 
showing  groups  of  frenzied  little  black  figures 
scurrying  to  shelter — then  blackness  once  more 
and  the  pop-popping  of  the  machine  guns,  spiteful, 
biting  sound  that  never  paused. 

It  lasted  about  half  an  hour.  The  Zeps  circled 
Dover  and  went  back.  The  guns  stopped  firing 
one  by  one,  as  though  they  had  run  down.  The 
lights  died  out,  save  for  a  few  on  guard.  Did  we 
sleep  well?  We  did  not,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
we  hadn't  had  our  clothes  off  a  single  night  while 
in  the  Zone. 

**I  bet  we're  going  to  have  a  swell  time  in  Lon- 
don,'* Bill  told  me.  **We  sure  have  started  off 
right ! ' '    We  certainly  had ! 

We  had  three  days  shore  leave  and  we  started 
out  next  day — sixteen  of  us — ^in  our  best  bibs  and 


98  Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

tuckers,  to  see  the  sights.  Were  we  glad  to  get 
asliore?  Chorns — ^we  were!  "We  took  a  little 
train — funniest  train  I  ever  saw.  Eeminded  me 
of  the  Jim  Crow  cars  back  home.  They  were 
divided  into  first,  second  and  third  class,  but  over 
there  uniforms  can  ride  wherever  they  choose, 
and  we  are  expected  to  pay  only  half  of  a  third- 
class  fare. 

Kemember,  we  were  one  of  the  first  shipload  of 
American  sailors  to  put  foot  in  London,  and  as 
such  we  were  one  of  the  sights  of  the  city. 
Crowds!  Say!  New  Year's  Eve  around  Times 
Square  or  Mardi  Gras  back  home  had  nothing  on 
the  mob  we  drew  there  in  Charing  Cross. 

They  fought  to  see  us.  They  elbowed  and 
pushed  and  wormed  their  way  in.  The  girls  threw 
their  arms  around  us  and  kissed  us,  and  the  men 
cheered,  but  that  wasn't  all.  They  wanted  to 
wish  on  the  eagles  on  our  sleeve — all  of  them  did. 
And  they  wanted  souvenirs — anything  for  sou- 
venirs— buttons  or  American  loose  change. 

*  *  Give  us  American  dimes, ' '  they  'd  cry.  *  *  Give 
us  American  dimes,"  and  they  fought  for  them. 


Zeps  and  Torpedoes  99 

I  had  some  Confederate  money  with  me.  They 
snapped  it  up. 

Two  bobbies — they  are  the  English  policemen, 
you  know — came  to  our  rescue,  and  packed  us  into 
taxies,  but  not  before  the  crowd  surged  around 
us  exclaiming  about  our  caps — our  little  white 
canvas  hats.  They  had  never  seen  any  like  them. 
They  wanted  those,  too.  I  don't  know  what  would 
have  become  of  us  if  the  police  hadn't  taken  a 
hand. 

Say,  by  that  time,  we  were  hungry  and  thirsty, 
but  we  didn't  dare  get  out  for  fear  of  starting 
another  young  mob.  I  felt  like  the  President  on 
inauguration  day,  or  the  King,  or  someone. 

**Stop  at  a  beanery,"  yelled  Bill  to  our  driver, 
a  little  old  man  with  roimd  shoulders  and  a  shiny 
coat.    He  cocked  an  eye  at  us. 

**Beg  pardon,  sir?"  he  said. 

Bill  replied,  **As  me  Allies,  the  French,  put  it, 
"'Jay  fame.'" 

Our  driver  wasn't  a  French  scholar.  He  looked 
at  me. 

"Where  is  it  you  want  to  go,  sir?" 


100        Over  the  Seas  for   Uncle  Sa 


m 


"Food,"  I  said.  "In  plain  Anglo-Saxon,  I 
hunger — I  crave  nonrishment. " 

"Oh,"  he  said,  "I  see,  sir,"  and  he  dumped  us 
out  before  a  restaurant.    We  went  in. 

"Ham  and  eggs,"  we  all  shouted.  Every  good 
American  sailor  always  orders  that,  but  our 
waiter  didn't  care. 

"You  can  have  either  ham,  sir,  or  eggs.  Not 
both." 

And  we  learned  something  else,  too.  You 
couldn't  order  more  than  thirty  cents'  worth  of 
food  at  one  sitting.  It's  against  the  law,  and, 
what's  more,  you  can't  treat  a  pal;  you  can't  even 
treat  a  girl,  which  ought  to  please  some  people 
I  know  back  home. 

We  didn't  stay  in  that  joint.  We  tried  four 
others  with  the  same  result.  I  never  wanted  to 
spend  money  so  badly  before  in  my  life. 

What  got  me  was  the  work  the  women  are  do- 
ing in  London.  Women  bus  drivers — women 
street  cleaners — women  baggage  smashers — and 
all  of  them  the  healthiest  lot  of  girls  I've  ever 
seen — red  cheeks  and  clear  eyes  and  a  smile  for 
us  always. 


Zeps  and  Torpedoes  101 

''Will  you  let  us  wish  on  you?"  they'd  cry. 
Of  course  we  let  thenL  I  only  hope  their  wishes 
came  true. 

But,  say,  night  in  London  is  one  great  party. 
It  gets  dusk,  and,  if  you  're  on  to  what  you  are  in 
for,  you  make  a  bee-line  for  where  you  are  going, 
before  the  light  fades  entirely — or  you  don't  get 
there.  We  didn't  know  that,  so  we  planned  to 
go  to  the  Hippodrome ;  but  we  waited  until  dark. 
Say,  talk  about  pitch  black!  It's  pale  beside  Lon- 
don at  night ! 

Imagine  Broadway  with  not  a  single  light — ^not 
even  a  pale  glimmer.  Imagine  it  filled  with  thou- 
sands and  thousands  of  people,  bumping  into  each 
other — talking,  laugliing,  whispering. 

No  wagons  or  street-cars — ^nothing  on  wheels, 
except  an  ambulance,  which  crawls  about  with 
weird  blue  lights,  very  dim.  Just  crowds  and 
crowds,  knocking  your  hat  off,  stepping  on  your 
feet,  taking  your  arm  by  mistake.  Men  apolo- 
gizing. Girls  giggling.  Voices  coming  from  no- 
where.   Forms  brushing  by  and  vanishing. 

The  streets  are  full.    I  think  every  last  person 


102        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

in  London  must  turn  out  after  dark.  It  is  one 
big  adventure.  You  never  forget  it.  You  don't 
know  where  you  are  or  where  you  are  going — no 
one  seems  to.  When  you  get  tired  you  stop  some- 
one and  ask  the  way  to  a  rooming  house.  If  they 
know  they  lead  you  along.  You  feel  a  door.  You 
open  it  and  close  it  cautiously  behind  yourself. 
You  are  in  a  dark  vestibule.  You  cross  a  black 
hall  groping  before  you.  Suddenly  your  hand 
touches  two  curtains  drawn  close.  You  part  them. 
Beyond  is  light  at  last.  You  enter  the  living-room 
of  the  house.  Someone  quietly  draws  the  curtains 
so  no  faintest  glimmer  wiU  penetrate  the  outer 
darkness.    Say,  it  was  some  experience! 

Next  day  a  gentleman  in  a  big  motor  picked  us 
up,  five  of  us,  and  showed  us  the  sights.  He 
wouldn't  tell  us  who  he  was,  but  he  was  a  big  bug 
all  right.  All  the  bobbies  came  to  a  crack  salute 
as  he  passed  by,  and  he  took  us  through  Parlia- 
ment and  to  Buckingham  Palace.  We  couldn't  find 
out  his  name.  All  he  confessed  to  was  that  he  sat 
in  the  House  of  Lords ;  so  I  asked  him  about  the 
family  estate.    He  knew  all  the  facts  but  said  none 


Zeps  and  Torpedoes  103 

of  the  crowd  were  in  London  just  then.  I  thought 
of  looking  them  up,  but  I  didn't  get  a  chance. 

That  night  we  took  in  the  Hippodrome.  It  was 
all  right,  but  it  made  us  homesick  for  the  one  on 
Forty-fourth  Street.  When  we  got  back  to  the 
ship  next  day  we  found  we  were  going  home  to 
the  tJ.  S.  A.    That  was  the  best  news  I  ever  heard. 

We  came  back  in  sixteen  days.  Say,  do  I  want 
to  go  over  again?  Well,  rather!  And  1^1  take  a 
longer  shore  leave  next  time.  Perhaps  I'll  run  up 
to  Northumberland  and  look  over  the  old  place. 
After  all,  seventeenth  isn't  so  far  down  the  line, 
now  is  it  I 


CAPTAIN  BARCLAY  OF  THE  MARINE 
CORPS  SPEAKS : 


*'THE  LEATHER  NECKS '* 

I  don't  want  to  say  anything  that  sounds  like 
boasting,  but  the  Marine  Corps  is  the  finest  branch 
of  service  in  the  world.  No  exceptions.  I  guess 
yon  know  that  marines  date  back  to  days  of 
ancient  Greece.  They  had  them  then.  They  were 
the  landing  party  on  shipboard — the  fighting 
force.  They  were  right  there  with  their  bows  and 
arrows  and  javelins  and  spears,  and  they  carried 
out  their  contract  as  well  as  the  men  who  rowed 
the  ship.  Each  one  had  his  own  particular  duties. 
It's  the  same  today,  but  somehow  the  nation  has 
got  into  the  habit  of  saying,  **  Leave  it  to  the  Ma- 
rines"— and  we've  tried  to  prove  that  we  are 
worthy  of  the  trust. 

In  the  old  days  there  used  to  be  a  bit  of  feeling 
between  the  sailor  and  the  marine.  You'll  find  the 
reason  for  it  in  English  history.  About  1803  there 
was  a  mutiny  in  the  British  navy,  and  the  marines 
helped  put  it  down.    After  that  they  were  called 

107 


108        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 


the  Royal  Marines,  but  the  sailors  got  an  idea  that 
they  were  on  board  a  ship  to  prevent  mutiny 
and  they  did  not  like  them  any  too  well.  But  they 
soon  found  that  the  marine  had  his  own  field — and 
that  he  had  Just  one  motto — "There's  nothing  I 
can't  do." 

It's  funny  the  way  our  men  tackle  everything, 
particularly  as  they  have  never  been  specialized 
like  other  branches.  For  instance,  there  is  no 
bridge-building  company,  yet  over  and  over  again 
when  there  has  been  need  of  bridges  the  marines 
have  just  gone  out  and  made  them. 

There's  nothing  you  can  think  of  that  you  won't 
find  some  of  them  can  do,  from  getting  up  a  dance 
to  rounding  up  a  bandit.  I  was  in  Santo  Domingo 
mth  my  company.  Most  of  the  men  were  recruits, 
pretty  soft  from  life  in  the  barracks.  We  were 
ordered  to  a  nearby  post  on  the  trail  of  a  desper- 
ado. Before  us  lay  a  march  of  about  four  or  five 
days.  A  hike  is  all  right  over  level  country 
that  is  fairly  dry,  but  ours  lay  through  a  se- 
ries of  marshes  winding  upward  over  a  moun- 
tain. 


'The  Leather  Necks"  109 


We  started  off  at  a  brisk  pace  and  we  didn't 
let  up.  There  were  patches  of  land  which  sent  us 
through  mud  up  to  our  knees — our  feet  were  never 
dry  day  or  night — ^but  there  was  no  kick  coming 
about  that.  We  were  going  to  reach  our  base  at 
the  time  planned — no  later. 

The  last  day  was  the  worst.  We  were  on  a  level 
stretch  at  last,  but  there  was  no  shade,  and  the  sun 
beat  down  like  a  ball  of  fire.  Our  wet  shoes  dried 
and  cracked  on  our  feet — and  we  were  blistered 
from  heel  to  toe.  But  that  didn't  prevent  our 
making  thirty  miles  that  day  or  doing  the  last 
four  miles  in  forty-five  minutes. 

We  were  tired  to  death  when  we  reached  our 
destination.  It  was  ten  o  'clock  at  night.  The  men 
dropped  where  they  halted,  just  about  all  in.  We 
hadn't  been  there  fifteen  minutes  when  word  came 
to  us  of  the  bandit  we  were  rounding  up.  It  seems 
he  was  in  hiding  in  the  hills  about  twenty  miles 
north  of  us.  A  woman  brought  us  the  tip.  He 
had  thrown  her  down  and  she  was  taking  her  re- 
venge in  the  usual  way. 

There  was  no  mistaking  her  earnestness.    There 


110       Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

was  just  one  thing  to  do — go  out  after  that  rebel. 
I  sent  over  to  the  men  and  asked  for  seven  volun- 
teers. "When  the  boys  heard  what  was  wanted, 
sixty  per  cent  of  the  whole  company  offered 
to  go.  They  forgot  they  were  tired,  stiff,  sore — 
you  couldn't  hold  them  back! 

I  had  the  horses  saddled  and  every  one  who 
could  commandeer  an  animal  mounted  one.  Some 
of  them  had  never  been  on  a  horse's  back  before, 
but  that  did  not  stop  them.  They  were  off  like  a 
shot,  the  whole  crowd  of  them — thundering  up 
that  dark  road  in  search  of  the  outlaw. 

They  caught  him,  too,  after  an  all-night  ride, 
and  they  brought  him  back  with  them.  I  tell  you 
a  good  rest  was  coming  to  them  after  that.  They 
certainly  needed  it ! 

The  men  have  a  great  pride  in  our  service. 
They  show  it  outwardly  by  keeping  themselves 
trim  as  a  whistle.  On  shipboard  each  man  is  al- 
lowed a  bucket  of  water  a  day  for  his  ablutions — 
no  more.  Well,  a  marine  makes  that  bucket  go  a 
long  way;  with  it  he  washes  himself,  brushes  his 
teeth,  cleans  his  clothes,  and  scrubs  the  deck — any- 


"The  Leather  Necks" 111 

one  who  claims  he  can  do  more  than  that  with  a 
bucket  of  water  will  have  to  show  me ! 

And  a  marine  takes  his  job  seriously,  whatever 
it  is — yes,  indeed.  In  the  little  French  towns  in 
which  they  have  been  landed  they  have  become  the 
traflfic  cops  of  the  place.  All  the  duties  of  a  gend- 
arme have  been  assumed  by  them  with  neatness 
and  despatch. 

The  marines  decided  that  no  bluejacket  was  to 
hold  conversation  with  a  French  girl.  Once  that 
was  definitely  passed  upon  they  began  enforcing 
the  law.  A  particularly  happy  young  bluejacket 
had  received  a  flower  from  the  hands  of  a  little 
French  maiden.  She  had  pinned  it  to  his  coat. 
Along  came  the  marine  while  Jack  Tar  was  try- 
ing to  thank  her  in  his  very  best  and  limited 
French. 

*'Cut  it  out!"  growled  the  marine. 

**You  beat  it!"  said  the  bluejacket. 

In  reply  the  marine  quietly  but  quickly  plucked 
off  the  flower  to  emphasize  his  command.  There 
was  nothing  else  to  do  but  to  fight,  and  the  marine 
managed  to  beat  up  Jack  mildly.   Jack  went  to  the 


112        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

ship's  doctor  to  have  a  stitch  or  two  taken  in  his 
ear.  He  was  still  raging,  and  vowed  he  'd  get  that 
marine  as  soon  as  he  was  out.  The  doctor  stopped 
stitching  long  enough  to  look  up  over  his  glasses. 

*'I  wouldn't,  if  I  were  you,"  he  said,  ''that  ma- 
rine was  very  gentle  with  you.  Next  time  he  might 
do  some  real  damage." 

Yes,  the  sailor  respects  the  marine  as  a  majesty 
of  the  law.  One  slim,  young  marine  is  enough  to 
make  a  gay  and  irresponsible  party  of  bluejackets 
along  the  docks  sit  up  and  take  notice. 

There  was  a  young  sergeant  by  the  name  of 
Watson.  He  was  a  particularly  efficient  chap. 
Seats  were  hard  to  get  on  the  train  going  up  to 
Paris,  and,  when  a  party  of  army,  navy  and  ma- 
rine officers  arrived  at  the  little  station,  we  found 
that  Watson  had  reserved  seats  for  all  of  us.  On 
our  return  trip  w^e  were  surprised  to  meet  him  at 
a  station  some  distance  from  the  little  town  that 
he  was  policing.  We  asked  him  if  he,  too,  had 
been  up  to  Paris. 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  said.  We  asked  him  how  it  hap- 
pened he  was  so  far  away  from  his  post. 


p'B'WOTWi^f^ 


N 


fe 


O 

=4-1 


03 


-♦-> 
(72 


"The  Leather  Necks''  113 

"I  went  up  on  my  own,  sir,"  he  told  ns  calmly 
enough.  '  *  I  got  to  thinking  that,  perhaps,  the  blue- 
jackets were  starting  something  in  Paris,  and  I 
thought  I'd  take  a  run  up  just  to  see  they  weren't 
putting  anything  over  on  the  marine  corps." 

Evidently  he  found  everything  0.  K.  or  he 
would  have  remained  to  adjust  it. 

It  was  Watson  who  had  such  trouble  making  the 
French  peasants  clean  up  their  huts.  Now,  as 
everyone  knows,  the  French  peasant  is  an  indi- 
vidual who  wishes  to  be  left  alone  to  tend  his  little 
patch  of  ground.  It  is  his  own  business  if  he  has 
the  cow  beneath  the  same  roof  that  covers  him,  and 
if  the  chickens  have  the  freedom  of  the  house  it 
is,  after  all,  an  affair  between  himself  and  his  poul- 
try, so  to  speak.  But  not  in  Watson's  eyes.  He 
had  orders  to  clean  up  that  town,  and  there  were 
no  exceptions.  Protests  were  in  vain.  He  saw 
that  sanitary  conditions  for  the  first  time  pre- 
vailed, and  not  until  the  houses  fairly  shone,  and 
the  streets  resembled  Spotless  Town,  did  he  relax 
and  express  himself. 

"I  see  their  point  of  view,  of  course,  sir,"  he 


114        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

told  me,  *'but  if  it  happens  to  be  the  wrong  point 
of  view  there's  nothing  to  do  but  to  right  it." 

The  marines  aren't  beaten  often  at  any  sport, 
but  when  they  are  they  take  it  as  a  tragedy.  A 
ship 's  crew  had  been  trained  to  shoot.  They  knew 
they  could  shoot,  and,  on  landing,  they  challenged 
the  marines  to  a  contest.  The  marines,  under  a 
grizzled  old  sergeant,  long  in  the  service,  were  im- 
mensely proud  of  their  skill  on  the  range.  They 
accepted  the  challenge.  They  were  dead  sure  of 
the  outcome.  There  wasn't  a  nickel  within  hail- 
ing distance  that  wasn  't  wagered ! 

The  marines  got  on  the  range  before  the  blue- 
jackets. No  advantage  was  taken.  Well,  the  blue- 
jackets beat  them  at  slow  fire.  They  beat  them 
at  rapid  fire.  They  beat  them  on  skirmish,  which 
the  marines  had  boasted  most  about.  Altogether, 
it  was  an  unhappy  day  for  the  marines. 

Next  day  the  commander  of  the  ship,  rising  very 
early,  saw  a  sight  which  fascinated  him  be- 
yond words.  On  the  range  were  the  crack  shots 
of  the  Marine  Corps.  Glowering  above  them  stood 
the  sergeant,  his  beard  fairly  bristling  with  anger, 


"The  Leather  Necks" 115 

his  back  ram-rod  straight.  He  had  the  men  all 
out,  and  he  was  teaching  them,  with  a  thorough- 
ness incomparable,  the  rudiments  of  rifle  prac- 
tice. 

With  stony  faces  the  men  submitted  to  the  in- 
sult of  being  returned  to  the  kindergarten  of 
shooting.  Again  and  again  they  went  through 
the  manual.  It  was  a  just  punishment  for  per- 
mitting bluejackets  to  defeat  them! 

**  Join  the  Marines — and  see  the  world" — and  to 
do  that  our  boys  pride  themselves  on  extra  quick 
obedience  to  orders,  for  there  is  no  telling  when  an 
expedition  will  be  pulled  up  in  a  hurry  and  sent 
to  the  other  end  of  the  globe.  But  whether  they 
go  or  whether  they  stay,  they  accept  it  all  calmly. 
The  words  of  the  little  marine,  who  was  plying  his 
shovel  one  hot  day,  seem  to  sum  up  their  content- 
ment. He  had  been  shoveling  dirt  since  early 
morning.  The  sun  was  warm,  and  he  paused  in  his 
task  to  mop  his  face.    He  looked  up  with  a  grin. 

**I  enlisted  to  see  the  earth,"  he  said;  *'and 
here  I  am,  digging  it  up,  turning  it  over,  and  look- 
ing at  it!  .  .  ." 


BUGLER  COLBY  SPEAKS: 


THE  WAY  WITH  THE  FRENCHIES 

I'm  a  home-loving  man.  I  don't  ask  anything 
better  of  life  than  my  little  house  in  the  country, 
with  the  wife  bustling  about  and  the  kids  waiting 
for  a  game  of  ball  or  a  tramp  in  the  woods. 

Yes,  I'm  a  peace-lover,  but  I'm  the  kind  of 
peace-lover  who  wouldn't  quit  this  war  a  minute 
before  the  German  empire  is  wiped  off  the  map. 
I'm  going  to  stand  by  until  that  day  comes  to  pass 
— as  come  it  will ! 

I'd  like  to  tear  the  heart  out  of  every  German 
for  the  work  they  have  done  to  the  French  and 
British  and  Scotch  and  Irish — oh,  I  know  what 
I'm  talking  about.  Yes,  you  do,  if  you  stay  in 
Havre  long  enough.  You  can  get  all  your  facts 
first  hand. 

Just  wander  down  to  the  station  every  other 
evening  when  the  big  seven-thirty  express  thun- 
ders in  with  her  load  of  returned  British  pris- 
oners.   Yes,  you  can  see  with  your  own  two  eyes 

119 


120       Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 


what  German  methods  are,  and  I  tell  yon  it  makes 
a  man,  who  is  a  man,  ready  to  give  the  last  drop 
of  blood  in  him  to  stamp  out  a  nation  that  treats 
men  that  way — and  what's  worse — women  and 
children.  .  .  . 

I'd  been  in  the  navy  five  years  as  a  bugler. 
You  are  on  the  bridge  all  the  time,  standing  by 
for  duty.  We  were  assigned  to  one  of  the  pret- 
tiest yachts  afloat.  It  was  originally  the  famous 
pleasure  boat  of  a  great  New  York  multi-million- 
aire. She  certainly  was  a  nifty  craft — about 
three  hundred  feet  long,  almost  as  big  as  a  de- 
stroyer, and  graceful  as  a  swan  in  the  water. 

There  must  have  been  great  parties  aboard  her 
in  the  old  days,  and  I  wonder  how  she  felt  when 
they  knocked  out  her  mahogany  staterooms  and 
hauled  down  her  real  lace  curtains  and  tore  up 
her  fine  saloons,  for  transport  duty. 

Nothing  classy  about  her  then — just  dirt  and 
grease  and  the  smell  of  pork  and  beans.  As  for 
her  color,  she  was  gray,  same  as  any  little  ten- 
cent  tug.  But  her  lines  didn't  change.  She  was 
li4ie  a  fine  lady  who  takes  off  her  ball  gown  and 


The  Way  with  the  Frenchies  121 

puts  on  rags,  and  in  spite  of  it  yon  can  tell  she's 
a  fine  lady  through  and  through. 

We  carried  the  first  American  troops  to  land 
in  France.  The  very  first.  That  was  making 
history,  wasn't  it?  It  seemed  right  and  fit  that 
the  proud  little  yacht  should  have  the  glory  of 
taking  the  first  batch  of  Yankees  to  foreign 
shores. 

It  was  a  rough  trip,  though,  and  we  felt  sorry 
for  the  boys  whose  sea  travels  had  been  limited 
to  the  ferryboat  between  Hoboken  and  New  York. 
Eough  weather  on  shipboard  is  no  joke.  You  can 
talk  about  the  hardships  of  the  trenches,  but  how 
about  being  aboard  a  pitching  vessel,  when  you 
can't  even  get  a  light  in  your  galley  ranges,  which 
means  no  food  can  be  cooked  and  a  steady  diet  of 
hard  tack  and  bully  beef  ? 

Oh,  we  hadn  't  any  kick  coming.  It  was  all  part 
of  the  game,  but  we  did  wish  the  sea  would  calm 
down  a  bit  and  the  fog  lift.  I  never  saw  such  a 
fog  in  all  my  days.  From  the  minute  we  left,  it 
wrapped  itself  around  us  like  a  damp  blanket. 
You  could  hardly  see  your  hand  before  your 


122        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 


face.  We  didn't  need  a  smoke  curtain  that  trip 
— nature  provided  one  for  us,  all  made  to  order. 

Our  first  taste  of  excitement  was  on  the  thir- 
teenth day  out.  We  were  just  wishing  for  some- 
thing, when  we  saw,  through  the  mist  that  had 
let  up  a  little,  a  strange  ship  ahead  of  us.  We 
signalled  her  to  make  her  colors,  but  instead  she 
started  off  as  though  she  were  trying  to  run  away. 
That  promised  hot  excitement,  so  we  went  after 
her.  We  chased  her  for  five  hours — noAv  losing 
her  in  the  fog,  now  sighting  her  again,  gaining 
on  her  inch  by  inch.  We  were  sure  she  was  a 
blamed  German  merchant  vessel  trying  to  sneak 
back  to  her  base,  and  we  had  the  guns  primed  to 
send  her  straight  to  the  place  all  Germans  come 
from. 

When  we  got  within  a  few  hundred  yards  of 
her  we  hauled  up  the  battle  ensign  on  the  fore- 
mast. We  meant  business.  The  gunners  stood 
by.  Just  as  they  expected  to  hear  the  command, 
"Fire  when  ready,"  up  came  the  British  Jack 
to  her  mast ! 

Say,  but  we  felt  foolish,  chasing  one  of  our 


The  Way  with  the  Frenchies  123 

own  allies  all  over  the  broad  Atlantic.  We  asked 
her  why  the  deuce  she  hadn't  made  her  col- 
ors before,  and  she  signalled  back  that  she 
was  under  the  impression  we  were  an  enemy 
raider. 

We  calmed  down  after  that  and  made  port 
without  pursuing  the  rest  of  the  British  navy  to 
cover. 

The  base  we  established  was  the  first  naval 
base  in  France.  We  kind  of  like  to  think  that 
some  day,  when  our  grandchildren  cross  the 
Atlantic  on  a  pleasure  trip — it  having  been  made 
safe  by  us  from  those  German  vipers — they'll 
hunt  out  the  little  harbor,  tucked  away  in  a  cor- 
ner, where  their  grandfathers  landed  that  June 
day,  and  went  ashore  with  the  first  handful  of 
American  soldiers  to  set  foot  in  France.  They 
were  there  for  just  one  purpose — to  show  what 
red,  white  and  blue  blood  could  do  toward  mak- 
ing the  world  a  safe  place  to  live  in. 

No  fogs  in  France — just  yellow  sunshine  and 
soft  air  and  eager  crowds  waiting  for  us  with 
open  arms.    Flags  everywhere.    It  certainly  made 


124        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

you  catch  your  breath  to  see  your  own  star- 
spangled  banner  flying  from  the  windows  of  the 
little  French  town. 

"We  went  ashore  pretty  flush.  Some  of  us  had 
as  much  as  a  couple  of  hundred  dollars,  I  sup- 
pose. We  made  our  way  to  the  railroad  station. 
We  wanted  to  get  up  to  the  "gay  Paree"  we'd 
been  hearing  about  all  our  lives.  We  couldn't 
believe  we  were  within  hailing  distance  of  it.  It 
had  always  been  a  bright  red  spot  on  the  map 
that  we  hoped  to  visit  some  day — and  here  we 
were  just  a  few  hours  away  from  the  liveliest  city 
of  Europe. 

We  made  for  the  railroad  station  double  quick. 
It  was  there  I  had  my  first  real  taste  of  French 
big-heartedness.  In  the  crowd  I  noticed  a  beau- 
tifully dressed  woman.  She  had  all  the  French 
zip  about  her,  but  when  she  saw  us  she  began  to 
cry,  and  she  just  let  the  tears  roll  down  her 
cheeks  as  though  she  didn't  know  she  was  do- 
ing it. 

She  stepped  forward  as  we  were  passing,  and 
the  crowd  let  her  through.    They  seemed  to  know 


The  Way  with  the  Frenchies  125 

who  she  was,  for  they  whispered  together  and 
pointed  her  out.  She  hurried  toward  us  and  be- 
gan to  talk  in  broken  English. 

''You  must  be  careful,"  she  begged  us.  "All 
this  money  you  have — it  may  tempt  some  of  these 
poor  people.  Put  it  away,  I  implore  you.  Use 
only  as  much  as  you  need.  ..." 

Then  she  caught  my  hands.  "Oh,  how  glad  I 
am  that  you  have  come  at  last !  How  I  bless  you 
and  your  country ! ' ' 

She  bought  our  tickets  to  Paris  for  us  and 
saw  us  safely  on  the  train,  putting  us  wise  to 
the  ropes.  Nothing  was  too  much  trouble  for  her 
to  do  for  us.  I  tell  you  we  never  forgot  it.  Even 
after  the  train  pulled  out  of  the  station  we  could 
see  her  standing  a  little  apart  from  the  rest,  wav- 
ing her  lace  handkerchief  to  us  until  we  rounded 
a  curve  and  lost  her  from  sight. 

Now  that  we  were  started  on  our  journey  we 
felt  great  and  I  began  to  tune  up.  I  can  sing  a 
little,  my  mates  say,  so  I  let  out  a  few  songs  that 
made  us  think  of  home.    While  I  was  giving  them 

'Way  Down  upon  the  Suwanee  Eiver ' '  the  door 


i( 


126        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

of  the  compartment  opened  and  a  big  chap  in  a 
British  uniform  stood  there  grinning. 

*' Don't  stop,  boys,"  he  said.  "It  sounds 
bully!" 

It  was  Paul  Rainey,  the  great  hunter.  Say,  we 
certainly  were  glad  to  meet  him,  not  only  because 
he  spoke  our  language,  but  because  we  Imew  from 
hearsay  that  he  w^asn't  afraid  of  man  or  beast, 
and  that's  the  kind  of  a  fellow  you  like  to  know. 
He  stayed  with  us  the  rest  of  the  journey,  and 
as  he  was  to  be  in  Paris  a  day  on  his  way  to 
Belgium,  he  took  us  with  him  to  the  American 
Ambulance  Quarters,  where  he  was  stationed. 

We  arrived  there  in  the  evening.  Next  day  he 
had  to  go  on,  so  we  found  .ourselves  wandering 
around  the  Place  de  la  Concorde  and  the  Place 
Vendome  and  the  Champs  Elysees  "svithout  com- 
pass or  rudder. 

It  was  a  pretty  city,  but  all  of  a  sudden  I  felt 
awfully  blue.  Everywhere  you  turned  somebody 
hollered  something  at  you  in  a  language  yon 
couldn't  make  head  or  tail  of — even  the  hack 
drivers  and  little  kids  in  the  street  talked  French. 


The  Way  with  the  Frenchies  127 

I  took  a  room  at  the  Continental,  and  say,  they 
almost  robbed  the  shirt  off  me.  Next  morning  I 
was  wishing  so  hard  for  home  yon  conld  almost 
hear  me  coming  down  the  street.  I  fonnd  the 
American  Express  office  and  lingered  there  listen- 
ing to  people  speaking  English.  I  wondered 
where  the  gay  part  of  "Paree"  came  in.  It 
looked  busy  and  prosperous  and  warlike  to  me — 
but  gay  I    Nothing  doing. 

Just  then  someone  spoke  in  my  mother  tongue 
and  I  whirled  to  see  a  French  army  officer  at  my 
elbow. 

**If  you  have  not  already  seen  the  sights  of 
Paris,  it  will  give  me  great  pleasure  to  show 
them  to  you,"  he  said. 

I  hadn't,  so  he  proceeded  to  do  the  honors,  and, 
like  everything  the  French  do — ^be  it  big  or  small 
—he  made  a  thorough  job  of  it.  He  was  my  host 
for  two  days  and  a  half,  and  I'll  guarantee  I  saw 
every  little  thing  in  Paris  from  the  Apaches  up. 
I  wouldn't  have  missed  that  sight-seeing  trip  for 
aU  the  gold  in  Europe.  That's  the  French  for 
■yon.    Their  hearts  and  their  homes  were  opened 


128        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

wide  to  us.  I  bet  there  isn't  a  Yank  living  who 
wouldnH  fight  to  the  last  breath  for  them. 

Next  I  fell  in  with  two  French  privates  on  fur- 
lough. They  took  me  home  mth  them  and  to  show 
my  gratitude  I  sang  our  songs  for  them  and 
taught  them  some  real  live  United  States  slang. 
They  were  good  pupils,  too,  and  were  proud  as 
peacocks  of  startling  a  crowd  by  calling  out, 
**Wash  you  step!" 

It  was  from  them  that  I  bought  my  best  little 
souvenir — a  German  officer's  helmet  one  of  the 
Frenchies  had  picked  up  after  shooting  his  man. 
It  was  a  peach  of  a  helmet,  slashed  across  the 
patent  leather  crown,  and  still  stained  with 
blood.  Inside  was  stamped  the  officer's  name  and 
regiment.  He  was  of  the  Death  Head  Huzzars— 
the  Kaiser's  own. 

I  asked  Frenchie  if  he  didn't  want  to  keep  it, 
but  he  shrugged.  He  could  get  plenty  more,  I 
made  out  he  meant.  He  was  going  back  to  the 
front  soon;  they'd  be  picking  helmets  off  the 
trees  once  the  French  got  really  started.  So  I 
bought  it  from  him  for  forty  francs. 


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The  Way  with  the  Frenchies  129 

Our  boat  lay  in  the  harbor.  They  were  coaling 
it,  and,  once  ready,  we  started  our  work  of  pa- 
trolling the  coast.  It  was  on  one  early  afternoon 
that  we  got  sudden  orders  to  put  to  sea,  and  we 
started  out  at  a  fast  clip.  Somebody  passed  the 
word  that  we  were  on  a  rescue  party  and  to  keep 
a  sharp  watch  out  for  rafts  or  lifeboats. 

Eescue  party!  Ever  see  men  who  have  faced 
death  in  a  leaky  boat  all  through  a  black  night? 
I'll  never  forget  their  faces — something  was 
stamped  there  that  will  never  come  out — a  grim, 
strained,  white  look  you  don't  like  to  see.  The 
few  boats  we  spotted  bobbed  about  like  corks  on 
the  waves.  The  men  were  too  numb  to  pull  on 
their  oars.  They  had  been  rowing  all  night. 
Some  of  them  were  half  dressed. 

Once  we  pulled  them  in  and  helped  fit  them  out 
with  clothes  we  heard  their  story.  They  had  been 
struck  amidships  by  a  blasted  torpedo  along 
about  midnight.  Their  boat  was  a  yacht  some- 
thing like  our  own;  the  impact  of  the  shell  blew 
her  to  a  thousand  bits.  The  men  asleep  were 
killed  like  rats  in  a  trap.    The  few  on  deck  man- 


130        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

aged  to  lanncH  some  boats  and  rafts  before  they 
were  sucked  down  with  the  vessel. 

That  midnight  attack  made  onr  score  against 
the  Hun  a  little  higher,  not  that  I  needed  any 
incentive  to  hate  him  another  notch'.  I  had  a 
vision  stamped  on  my  mind  I  could  never  forget. 
I  could  still  see  that  black  snake  of  a  train  crawl- 
ing into  the  crowded  station  at  Havre — ^hear  the 
long-drawn  grinding  of  the  brakes  and  hissing  of 
steam — see  the  guards  keeping  back  the  mob 
surging  forward  for  a  chance  to  welcome  home 
its  sons.  There  was  endless  noise  and  confusion 
— but  occasionally  you  would  find  a  silent  watcher 
— a  woman  and  sometimes  a  man,  who  stood  mo- 
tionless, staring  at  the  cars — muscles  taut,  wait- 
ing for  God  knows  what  horror. 

Yes,  you  don't  forget  the  first  sight  of  the  re- 
turned prisoners,  in  their  worn  uniforms.  White- 
faced  boys  looldng  about  eagerly  for  the  face  of 
friends— friends  at  last,  after  three  long  years! 
No,  you  never  forget  those  battle-scarred  men, 
with  here  an  arm  gone,  or  a  leg— or  worse,  the 
eyes  blinded  forever. 


The  Way  with  the  Frenchies  131 

Oh,  my  God !  you  dream  of  it  nights  afterward ; 
you  see  that  endless  line  of  maimed  and  broken 
men.  .  .  , 

Hate  Germans!  I  tell  you  I'm  a  peace-loving 
man  and  all  I  want  is  my  little  home,  with  the 
wife  and  the  kids,  but  do  you  think  I'd  stop  fight- 
ing in  this  war  while  there  is  yet  a  drop  of  blood 
left  in  me  ?  Not  much !  I  love  my  own  too  well 
to  let  them  suffer  as  those  French  and  Belgian 
women  have — that's  the  answer! 


ENSIGN  STAFFORD 
SPEAKS : 


A  YANKEE  STANDS  BY 

I  haven't  anything  to  tell  about.  Being  tor- 
pedoed is  an  old  story  now.  Any  number  of  men 
have  met  Fritz  on  the  way  over,  and,  if  they 
haven't  been  quick  enough,  he's  managed  to  take 
a  shot  at  them,  but  it  isn't  often  we  fail  to  get  a 
chance  to  return  fire.  Just  let  a  periscope  stick 
its  head  out  of  water,  and  I  '11  show  you  action  on 
deck  that  would  make  a  Kansas  cyclone  look  tame 
— ^not  that  I've  seen  one.  My  home  is  in  the  East. 
The  best  we  can  boast  about  is  a  blizzard  or  two, 
and  a  sixty-mile  gale. 

I  enlisted  as  a  signalman,  and  was  assigned  to 
duty  on  a  merchant  ship.  There  were  two  other 
U.  S.  N.  signalmen  aboard  her,  and  we  managed 
to  make  the  time  fly  talking  about  home  and  the 
people  we  knew. 

One  of  our  prize  ways  of  speeding  up  a  long 
evening  on  shipboard  was  to  swap  notes  on  the 
summers  we  had  spent.   We  all  three,  at  different 

135 


136        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 


times,  had  ** vacated''  in  the  Maine  woods,  almost 
at  the  identical  spot,  and,  do  yon  know,  we  hailed 
the  fact  with  something  very  close  to  triumph ! 

I  guess  we  three  hashed  over  every  little  inci- 
dent of  our  trips.  We  found  we  had  had  the  same 
close-mouthed  Indian  guide,  that  we  had  all  fished 
on  the  same  bank  of  a  little  lost  lake,  that  we  had 
all  camped  on  the  same  site  in  a  clearing  by  the 
water.  But  when  we  discovered  that  we  had  used 
the  same  sort  of  tackle,  and  the  same-sized  rifles, 
we  were  almost  *' moved  to  tears,''  as  the  lady 
novelists  put  it. 

Those  things,  small  as  they  seem,  are  the  most 
important  things  in  the  world  when  you  are 
far  away  from  home.  They  certainly  make 
men  inseparable,  and,  aside  from  the  fact  that 
Dick  Chamberlain  and  Tod  Carlin  and  I  were  the 
only  Americans  aboard,  we  became,  from  the  first, 
the  best  pals  in  the  world. 

"We  were  proceeding  as  flagship  of  a  convoy, 
and,  as  such,  we  kept  an  extra  sharp  lookout  for 
trouble,  once  we  were  in  the  zone. 

It  was  three  o  'clock  on  the  afternoon  of  a  clear 


L4  Yankee  Stands  By 137 

September  day.  The  sea  was  smooth  and  we  were 
all  on  deck.  The  sky  was  so  blue  and  the  sun  so 
bright  that  it  seemed  as  though  the  lurking  sub- 
marine we  were  always  expecting  was  a  myth  like 
the  sea  serpent  you  read  about  but  never  see. 
Night  time  is  the  time  you  are  looking  for  an  at- 
tack, but  broad  daylight  always  seems  to  dispel 
thoughts  of  danger.  However,  the  danger  was 
there. 

We  were  struck  close  by  the  engine  rooms.  All 
I  remember  clearly  was  the  terrific  roar  and  splin- 
tering of  wood,  and  the  sudden  listing  of  the  ship. 
The  order  rang  out  to  clear  the  ship  and  the  crew 
immediately  took  to  the  life-boats  in  the  event  of 
rapid  settling. 

We  three  found  ourselves  assigned  to  the  same 
life-boat.  There  was  a  slight  delay  in  lowering  it. 
That  delay  was  fatal.  The  explosion  that  we  had 
been  expecting  blew  our  boat  to  pieces  and  we 
found  ourselves  struggling  in  the  water. 

The  officers '  boat  had  been  lowered  and  it  drew 
up  alongside  of  us.  They  helped  us  in.  The  cap- 
tain was  all  for  going  back  to  his  ship.    He  was 


138        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

sure  there  was  no  immediate  danger  of  her  sink- 
ing. The  water-tight  compartments  fore  and  aft 
were  holding  and  he  called  for  volunteers  to  go 
aboard  and  help  in  an  attempt  to  beach  the  ship. 

By  this  time  the  other  life-boats  were  beyond 
hailing  distance  and  we  found  out  afterward  that 
the  men  in  them,  including  some  British  gunners, 
were  picked  up  later  by  patrol  boats. 

Of  course,  all  the  occupants  of  the  remaining 
boats  volunteered.  I  didn't  particularly  like  the 
looks  of  the  ship,  as  her  well  docks  were  on  the 
sea  level,  but  she  had  stopped  settling  and  we  fol- 
lowed the  rest  aboard. 

It  seemed  queer  to  be  on  her  again.  There  were 
just  a  handful  of  us,  the  rest  of  our  mates  were 
out  of  sight,  bound  for  none  of  us  knew  where.  It 
was  like  returning  to  a  ghost  ship,  she  lay  so  still 
on  the  waters,  rocking  softly,  the  waves  washing 
over  her  deck. 

There  was  plenty  of  work  for  all  hands — it 
didn't  give  us  time  to  think.  I  was  glad  of  that. 
Dick  and  Tod  and  I  joked  a  bit  about  what  the 
people  back  home  would  say  now,  if  they  could  see 


A  Yankee  Staiids  By  139 

us  Tip  to  our  anldes  in  water  on  a  sinking  sliip. 
Afternoon  changed  to  evening.  Still  we  saw  no 
sign  of  help  coming  toward  us.  However,  just  so 
long  as  Fritz  stayed  away  we  were  satisfied. 
When  it  got  good  and  dark,  though,  we  weren't 
quite  so  pleased.  It  helps,  I  can  tell  you,  to  be  able 
to  see  your  hand  before  your  face.  You  feel  a 
lot  happier  then. 

Late  that  night  we  made  out  something  coming 
toward  us.  We  weren  't  sure  whether  it  was  friend 
or  foe.  It  gave  us  a  bad  few  minutes,  then  we 
made  out  the  towboats  who  had  come  to  our  as- 
sistance. We  were  so  glad  to  see  them  that  we 
almost  cheered  out  loud,  which  is  one  thing  you 
don't  do  in  the  Zone. 

We  passed  them  lines,  and  they  steered  a  course 
for  land.  All  this  time  our  ship  was  slowly  work- 
ing water ;  you  could  tell  it  by  measuring,  but  the 
chief  engineer  continued  to  assure  the  captain  that 
we  would  be  successful  in  beaching  her. 

All  night  we  moved  slowly  through  the  water, 
wondering  each  minute  when  she  would  take  a 
sudden  dive  to  the  bottom.    Walking  along  the 


140        Over  the  Seas  for   Uncle  Sam 

edge  of  a  canyon  in  the  dark  is  much  the  same  sen- 
sation, I  guess.  We  were  glad  when  we  saw  a 
pale  streak  in  the  sky,  and  watched  the  morning 
star  fade.    Daybreak  found  us  still  afloat. 

Some  of  the  British  crew  had  had  experience  on 
torpedoed  ships.  I  suppose  they  knew  that  the 
wise  thing  to  do  was  to  leave  her  if  they  got  the 
chance.  That  was  the  reason  why  they  chose  to 
go  on  the  escort  vessel  when  the  captain  put  it  up 
to  them.  By  morning  it  certainly  looked  as  if  our 
ship  would  never  be  beached  on  this  earth.  We 
were  in  water  up  to  our  knees.  There  wasn't  a 
dry  spot  on  us,  and  the  chill  winds  that  swept 
down  from  the  north  played  a  game  of  hide-and- 
seek  through  our  wet  clothes. 

The  captain  called  us  all  together.  He  told  us 
that  the  chances  for  bringing  her  in  were  small, 
that  no  man  need  stand  by,  that  he  did  not  blame 
anyone  for  choosing  dry  land  and  dry  clothes  in 
preference  to  almost  certain  sinking. 

Etts  speech  did  not  shake  the  officers'  determina- 
tion to  remain  aboard  her — all  of  them.  They 
simply  had  no  intention  of  getting  off  so  long  as 


Li  Yankee  Stands  By  141 


there  was  a  glimmer  of  a  chance  of  landing  her 
safe.  Then  the  captain  asked  Dick  if  he  desired 
to  remain  or  if  he  wanted  to  get  off.  Dick 
grinned. 

"Ill  stay,  sir,''  he  said. 

The  captain  asked  Tod. 

*'I'll  stay,  too,  sir,"  he  answered. 

The  captain  came  to  me.  I  had  my  answer 
ready. 

"Ill  stay,  sir,"  I  told  him. 

After  he  had  thanked  ns  and  gone  on,  Dick 
called  a  meeting  of  the  Three  Yanks.  *  *  You  didn  't 
stand  by  just  because  I  volunteered  to,  did  you?" 
he  asked  anxiously.  We  shook  our  heads.  Our 
teeth  were  chattering  so  that  it  was  hard  to  say 
what  we  thought,  so  we  didn't  try.  What  I 
thought  was  something  to  the  effect  that  I  wished 
I  had  my  extra  sweater  on  underneath,  and  that  I 
was  glad  I  had  two  such  plucky  pals. 

We  spent  another  night  on  board  her.  We  had 
had  not  slept  for  forty-eight  hours,  but  we  didn't 
seem  to  need  to — the  excitement  of  wondering 
what  the  next  minute  would  bring  banished  sleep. 


142        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 


The  following  morning  at  four  o'clock  we 
landed  safely  on  the  beach.  The  destroyers 
took  US  off  the  ship — all  we  knew  was  that  at  last 
we  were  on  something  where  we  could  rest.  I 
remember  some  of  the  crew  asking  us  questions, 
but  I  don't  remember  our  answering.  We  just 
dropped  down  on  a  roll  of  blankets  and  closed  our 
eyes.  .  .  . 

I  woke  last.  Dick  and  Tod  were  chatting  softly 
in  a  corner.    I  opened  my  eyes  and  listened. 

"Well,  write  it  down,  Tod,  so  you  don't  forget," 
Dick  was  saying.  *'You  and  Clink  and  I  will  hike 
it  for  Maine.    Is  that  straight  I ' ' 

"What's  this?"  I  asked.  Dick  grinned  over  at 
me. 

"We're  making  a  little  date  for  after  the  war," 
he  said.  "We  figured  what  a  lot  we'd  have  to 
talk  about  on  that  camping  trip,  eh?" 

I  nodded,    "You  can  count  me  in,"  I  said. 

But,  as  it's  turned  out,  there  won't  be  any 
camping  trip  for  the  three  of  us  after  all.  Dick 
was  lost  at  sea  on  his  next  trip  across,  while  I  was 
sick  in  hospital.    Then  I  heard  that  Tod  had  gone 


A  Yankee  Stands  By  143 

down,  and  it  nearly  knocked  me  out.    There  never 
were  two  such  pals  as  those  chaps. 

Perhaps  some  day  when  it 's  all  over,  and  we  Ve 
licked  the  Hun  to  a  standstill,  I  '11  wander  up  there 
myself  with  our  stony-faced  guide;  and  perhaps 
I'll  sit  on  the  bank  of  our  little  lake  and  fish  in  the 
clear  water  with  the  tackle  we  all  used,  or  shoot 
the  same-sized  rifle — and  I'll  have  the  satisfaction 
of  knowing  that  they've  trod  every  inch  of  the 
ground — it  will  be  almost  like  having  them  there 
— ^but  not  quite — pals  like  that  don't  happen  more 
than  once  in  a  lifetime — I  wish  I  could  tell  you 
just  what  great  sort  of  fellows  they  were — oh, 
well,  I  couldn't  if  I  tried  a  thousand  years — so 
what's  the  use? 


a- 


< 


O 


U2 

o 

a 

a; 
u 
o 


m 

•rH 


^02 

OP 


SEAMAN  BURKE 
SPEAKS : 


A  TASTE  OF  HELL 

I  joined  the  Navy  as  an  apprentice  seaman.  I 
thought  it  would  be  great  to  try  a  new  way  of 
licking  the  Huns.  I  had  sampled  the  army.  Yes, 
I  was  at  the  Somme  with  the  Canucks.  Greatest 
bunch  of  fighters  the  world  has  ever  seen ! 

I  can  say  it,  because  I'm  an  American,  but  as 
soon  as  war  was  declared,  my  three  cousins  and  I 
beat  it  for  Canada  and  enlisted.  We  were  all  in 
the  same  regiment,  the  third  to  go  across. 

You've  no  idea  until  you  get  into  the  thick  of 
a  fight  with  shrapnel  whistling  past  you  and  shells 
bursting  a  few  feet  away,  how  much  depends  on 
your  leader.  It's  up  to  him  to  win  or  lose  the 
ground  you're  holding  for  all  you're  worth.  The 
men  in  charge  of  us  were  young  and  some  of  them 
pretty  green  at  the  war  game — but  say!  there 
wasn't  a  bloody  Hun  alive  that  could  scare  them! 
Not  by  a  long  sight ! 

We  sailed  in  August,  about  two  thousand  of  us. 

147 


148        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

We  had  a  quiet  trip  across  and,  oh,  Christmas! 
how  we  did  long  to  get  into  the  scrap!  They 
landed  us  at  a  French  port  and  we  had  just  three 
days'  training  before  we  were  ordered  up. 

You  can't  make  much  headway  in  three  days  to 
prepare  you  to  meet  the  Boches,  but  we  did  man- 
age to  get  in  a  little  drilling  and  skirmishing.  All 
the  bayonet  charging  I  learned  was  from  a  Jap  in 
my  company.  He  was  a  funny  little  cuss.  Why 
he  joined  up  I  can't  imagine.  You'd  think  he 
would  rather  save  his  skin  and  stay  at  home,  but 
he  was  all  for  fighting.  He  had  been  trained  in 
Japan  and  had  joined  the  Canadians  at  the  last 
minute. 

My  cousins  and  I  learned  all  we  knew  from  him. 
He  seemed  glad  to  show  us.  He  was  a  friendly  lit- 
tle chap  and  some  fighter!  I  remember  seeing 
him  alongside  of  me  for  a  few  seconds  in  a  trench 
full  of  Germans  .  .  .  and  then  not  seeing  him. 
What  became  of  him  I  never  knew.  You  don't, 
most  of  the  time. 

A  long  line  of  troop  trains  were  awaiting  us. 
Pullmans?    I  guess  not!— freights.    We  piled  in. 


'A  Taste  of  Hell 149 

We  were  all  anxious  to  get  to  the  front.  We  knew 
they  were  in  desperate  need  of  men  and  that  we 
might  get  a  chance  to  go  over  the  top,  green  as 
we  were. 

It  was  night  before  they  opened  the  doors  and 
let  us  out.  We  seemed  to  be  in  a  sort  of  meadow. 
It  was  black  as  a  cave,  except  for  the  lights  of  the 
station.  There  was  plenty  of  noise  as  two  thou- 
sand men  alighted,  but  there  was  another  sound — 
a  dull,  thick  booming  .  .  .  cannons!  It  seemed 
thousands  of  miles  away,  but  you  never  forgot  it 
for  an  instant.  It  meant  that  we  fellows  who  had 
been  so  recently  in  offices  plugging  away  for  so 
much  a  week  were  out  there  at  last  on  the  great 
battlefield  of  France ! 

We  had  reached  the  trenches.  They  weren't  at 
all  like  I  supposed  they'd  be.  I  expected  them  to 
be  narrow,  with  room  enough  for  one  man  only. 
Instead  two  and  sometimes  three  could  walk 
abreast.  It  seemed  to  me  as  though  we  marched  a 
hundred  miles  that  night.  I  was  so  tired  I  was 
ready  to  drop,  and  then  all  the  mud  I  had  ever  read 
about  seemed  to  be  planted  in  that  trench !    Mud ! 


150        Over  the  Seas  for   Uncle  Sam 

We  tramped  through  knee-deep  slime — ^knee-deep, 
mind  you — and  we  thought  that  was  bad  until  we 
went  in  up  to  our  waists. 

It  must  have  been  raining  pitchforks  before  Ave 
arrived,  and  as  we  scuffed  along  the  best  way  we 
could  it  began  again — a  cold,  driving  rain  straight 
down  from  the  black  sky,  stinging  our  faces  and 
running  down  our  necks.  After  a  while  we  halted 
for  the  night. 

There  were  dugouts  where  you  could  set  up  your 
cook-stove  if  you  were  lucky  enough  to  own  one. 
All  your  food  you  carried  on  your  back  in  cans, 
but  you  didn't  have  energy  enough  left  to  open 
them.  You  just  dropped  down  under  the  shelter 
of  a  bunch  of  sandbags  if  you  were  lucky,  or  if 
you  weren't,  in  a  muddy  patch  of  ground  where 
you  slept  like  a  log. 

Next  day  we  were  on  our  way — that  long  line  of 
drenched  men  tramping  toward  the  sound  of  the 
big  guns.  That's  how  you  measured  distance,  by 
increasing  volume.  The  rain  had  begun  in  earnest 
and  it  never  let  up  for  the  three  days  we  made  our 
way  to  the  trench  just  back  of  the  Big  Hill. 


A  Taste  of  Hell 151 

It  seemed  to  be  our  destination,  because  we  got 
orders  to  begin  digging,  and  we  went  to  work  with 
pick  and  shovel.  I  forgot  how  tired  I  was  in  the 
excitement  of  being  so  near  the  Huns.  You  do 
out  there.  You  don't  worry  about  dying,  that's 
one  sure  bet,  nor  about  eating  or  sleeping;  the 
one  thing  that  gets  you  is  when  your  best  pals  go 
west. 

I  had  to  stand  watch  that  night.  That  meant 
two  hours  of  pacing  back  and  forth,  fifteen  feet, 
ready  for  the  enemy's  charge  at  any  second.  I 
couldn't  believe  that  the  fellows  we  were  waiting 
for  were  so  close  up — there  across  that  short  patch 
of  ground — but  I  realized  it  when  a  shell  fell  not 
five  feet  away  from  me  and  blew  three  of  my  pals 
to  bits.    By  God !  I  knew  it  then ! 

I  shall  never  forget  it.  I'd  been  listening  to 
them  talk  in  a  little  knot  as  I  paced  by,  swapping 
smokes  and  trying  to  find  a  dry  place  to  stand. 
One  of  them  laughed.  That  was  the  last  sound  I 
heard  before  the  crash  of  exploding  shell.  There 
wasn't  one  of  them  left. 

We  were  four  days  waiting  for  the  signal  to 


152        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

charge.  We  were  mad  for  it.  It  seemed  as  if  the 
leaders  could  not  hold  us  back  another  day.  We 
wanted  to  get  at  those  damned  Huns  who  had 
killed  our  pals.  We  knew  we  could  lick  them,  raw 
as  we  were.  We  had  some  full-blooded  Indians 
from  Ontario  with  us.  They  were  the  real  thing 
in  a  fight.  They  did  not  know  what  fear  meant. 
There  just  wasn't  any  such  word  in  the  language 
for  them,  and  when  they  charged  they  forgot  they 
were  supposed  to  use  rifles.  They  threw  them 
away  and  drew  their  long  knives — razor-sharp. 
That 's  how  they  went  after  the  Huns — and  butch- 
ered the  swine  good  and  proper. 

On  the  fourth  day  the  signal  was  passed  along 
the  trench  for  a  charge.  One  hundred  and  fifty 
men  were  picked — every  third  man.  I  was  lucky 
and  was  one  of  the  number.  Every  man  was  keen 
to  be  first  over  the  top.  About  nine  of  the  Indians 
came  along.  None  of  my  cousins  made  it,  but  the 
little  Jap  who  had  taught  me  bayoneting  was  be- 
side me,  grinning  and  fondling  his  rifle  as  a  mother 
does  her  baby. 

Our  leaders  sprang  up  on  the  sand  bags  and 


A  Taste  of  Hell 153 

hurled  us  the  order.  How  few  of  them  came 
back  from  that  charge  on  which  they  set  out  so 
fearlessly  I 

"We  climbed  up.  We  heard  our  officers  shout- 
ing to  us  and  our  comrades  wishing  us  the  best 
of  luck,  to  give  the  Huns  hell!  We  sprang  for- 
ward and  the  Germans  opened  a  rain  of  bullets 
from  their  machine  guns  full  upon  us  and  the  men 
who  followed.  They  swept  our  lines.  Men  reeled 
and  fell  to  the  left  and  right  of  me — just  crumpled 
up  like  those  little  toys  whose  springs  have 
snapped.  Still  we  went  on.  We  made  the  trench 
and  I  speared  my  first  Boche.  Got  him,  too! 
Brought  back  his  iron  cross  as  a  trophy.  The 
Germans  were  scampering  to  the  next  trench  like 
rats  caught  in  a  trap.  They  sure  do  hate  hand- 
to-hand  fighting! 

We  held  that  trench  six  days.  It  was  jumpy 
work.  The  Germans  were  driven  back,  but  there 
was  no  telling  when  they  would  start  with  the 
hand-grenades.  They  didn't  do  that,  but  they  did 
something  worse — ^gas.  It  was  pretty  new  to  us 
then.    We  were  fitted  out  witH  a  sort  of  rubber 


154        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

mask  that  wasn't  much  good.  We  saw  a  fellow 
drop  a  way  down  the  line.  Then  one  of  the 
brownish  trench  rats,  a  friendly  little  chap,  who 
ate  the  scraps  I  shelled  out  to  him,  turned  up  his 
toes.  AVe  clapped  on  our  masks,  but  the  wind 
was  with  Fritz  and  the  gas  swept  through  our 
trench  on  the  breeze. 

It  lasted  about  an  hour  and  a  half.  I'd  hate 
the  job  of  being  the  first  man  ordered  to  take  off 
his  mask  and  test  the  air  for  the  rest,  but  some 
one  has  to,  and  it  often  means  lights  out  for  him. 

I  had  been  slightly  wounded — a  sabre  cut  on  my 
leg,  but  I  managed  to  dress  it  myself.  It  was  ten 
times  better  to  be  up,  however  rocky  you  felt,  than 
lying  around  those  damp  trenches.  I  wondered 
where  my  cousins  were.  I  worried  about  them. 
Somehow  I  wasn't  afraid  for  myself,  but  I  just 
wished  it  would  soon  be  over  and  I  could  get 
home.  You  think  about  home  an  awful  lot  out 
there. 

We  were  sent  to  some  swamps  next.  There 
were  cement  trenches — German  make — and  they 
were  considerably  drier.    We  were  pretty  com- 


A  Taste  of  Hell  155 


fortable  there  except  for  an  occasional  shell 
blowing  things  to  bits.  I  used  to  wonder  how 
there  was  enough  lead  in  the  world  to  make  all  the 
shells  the  armies  used.  We  always  had  plenty  of 
ammunition.  The  Eussians  were  the  ones  who 
got  the  raw  deal.  We  passed  a  lot  of  them  on  our 
way  out  front.  A  regiment  of  them  was  holding 
a  square.  They  were  dull-eyed  boys — hopeless 
looking.  Do  you  blame  them?  One  day  they 
would  be  sent  out  with  ammunition  to  burn.  The 
next  they  wouldn't  even  be  given  a  rifle.  How 
did  they  protect  themselves?  Oh,  rocks  and 
stones,  I  suppose.  But  they  were  wiped  out 
when  they  tried  to  charge  empty-handed,  that's 
sure. 

The  Germans  raided  us  with  hand  grenades  one 
night.  We  heard  them  coming  and  we  fought  like 
fiends,  but  they  outnumbered  us  five  to  one.  I 
went  down  with  a  shot  in  my  side.  The  next 
thing  I  remembered  was  being  aboard  a  trans- 
port bound  for  home.  Nothing  ever  sounded  so 
good  to  me  as  that  word!  I  found  my  three 
cousins  were  aboard.    One  of  them  had  lost  his 


15C)        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

two  legs,  another  his  leg  and  his  arm,  and  the 
youngest  had  his  right  arm  blown  off. 

It  didn't  take  me  long  to  find  out  how  lucky  I 
was.  All  I  needed  to  do  was  to  look  around  at  the 
other  eighteen  hundred  wounded.  They  landed 
us  at  Halifax,  on  our  way  to  Toronto.  I  was  laid 
up  for  quite  a  while,  and  the  funny  thing  was 
now  that  I  was  home  again  I  kept  planning 
ways  to  get  back  as  soon  as  I  could  just  to  show 
those  Huns  who's  who. 

I  used  to  lie  in  my  clean  white  bed,  looking  out 
a  long  window  onto  the  garden.  It  was  calm  and 
quiet.  But  I  didn't  seem  to  see  it — what  I  saw 
were  those  blood-soaked  trenches,  with  your  pals 
gasping  out  their  lives  alongside  of  you  and  your 
leaders,  falling  even  as  they  urged  you  to  charge ! 
It  took  me  a  while  to  get  well  and  when  I  did  I 
went  back  to  the  States.  I  had  an  idea.  I  would 
join  the  Navy.  It  would  be  a  new  w^ay  of  meeting 
Fritz.  I  liked  the  thought  of  killing  him  whole- 
sale on  the  sea. 

I  enlisted  as  an  apprenticed  seaman, — that  was 
last  March.    I  am  in  fine  trim,  except  for  a  scar 


A  Taste  of  Hell  157 

on  my  leg  and  a  bullet  hole  in  my  side.  I've  fin- 
ished training  now  and  I'm  ready  to  be  shipped 
across.  Gee,  but  I  hope  we  '11  get  a  fat  submarine 
full  of  German  officers — and  that  we  '11  drown  them 
Kke  the  rats  they  are  I 


SECOND-CLASS  GUNNER'S  MATE 
FOWLER  SPEAKS: 


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Jt  .",i....  .    «...   I* 


THE  WANDERLUST  AND  THE  WAR 

I've  been  torpedoed  three  times — three  ships 
gone  down  under  me,  and  I'm  still  here.  Didn't 
mind  it  much — I  can  swim;  besides,  I'm  pretty- 
used  to  the  sea — first  shipped  when  I  was 
thirteen.  My  father  and  mother  had  sent  me  to 
a  manual  training  school.  I  didn't  like  it.  I  was 
always  playing  hookey  and  finally  ran  away. 

I  didn't  care  where  I  went  just  so  long  as  it  was 
on  a  ship.  I  knew  it  was  the  sea  I  wanted.  Be- 
fore I  decided,  I  used  to  hang  around  the  docks. 
I  liked  the  smell  of  the  w^ater  and  the  big  talk  of 
the  old  salts  who  had  been  around  the  world  a 
dozen  times.  They  didn't  stay  cooped  up  in  any 
four  walls  studying  geography — they  went  out  and 
lived  it. 

I  knew  enough  abont  sailing  to  ship  as  boat- 
swain. I  was  big  for  my  age,  so  they  took  me  on. 
It  was  a  sand  sucker  going  down  to  the  mouth  of 

the  Mississippi. 

i6i 


162        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

The  skipper  took  a  kind  of  a  shine  to  me.  He 
saw  I  wanted  to  study  navigation  so  he  lent  me 
books  and  let  me  go  into  the  chart  house  and 
work.  Arithmetic  was  hard  for  me,  and  spelling, 
too,  but  I'd  copy  out  words  I  didn't  know  and 
take  them  to  him.  I  guess  he  saw  I  was  in 
earnest. 

As  a  result  I  got  my  rate  as  able-bodied  seaman 
when  I  was  fifteen.  I  was  in  New  Orleans  then, 
and  I  saw  a  chance  to  ship  on  one  of  the  Standard 
Oil  boats  bound  for  Tampico. 

I  was  crazy  to  go  to  Mexico.  There  was  a 
*'Mex"  on  the  old  ship  and  he  was  always  talk- 
ing about  the  sunshine  and  free  fruit  in  his  coun- 
try. When  I  told  him  where  I  was  bound  for  he 
wanted  to  come,  too,  but  my  new  skipper  couldn't 
see  him.  **Mex"  drank  too  much  fire  water  for 
the  good  of  one  man. 

We  didn't  stay  long  in  Mexico.  I  got  a  chance 
to  go  through  Vera  Cruz,  and  that  was  about  all, 
before  starting  for  home.  I'd  saved  quite  a  lot 
of  money  and  all  the  way  back  to  New  York  I 
kept  asking  myself  would  I  or  wouldn't  I  drop 


The  Wanderlust  and  the  War  163 

in  on  my  father  and  mother  to  let  them  know  I 
was  alive.  I  couldn't  decide.  When  I  got  to 
New  York  the  first  thing  I  did  was  to  buy  myself 
a  great  outfit;  then  I  started  to  the  street  where 
I  knew  the  family  lived.  On  the  way  I  met  a 
pal  who  was  shipping  on  a  small  boat  leaving 
for  Canada.  He  wanted  me  to  go  along.  There 
didn't  seem  to  be  any  good  reason  to  refuse,  see- 
ing as  I  had  all  my  papers.  I'd  never  been  to 
Canada. 

I  told  him  about  wanting  to  call  on  my  parents, 
but  he  said  there 'd  be  time  enough  when  I  got 
back  to  port.  I  went  along  with  him  and  up  to 
Nova  Scotia. 

All  the  time  I  told  myself  it  was  going  to  be 
my  last  trip  up  the  coast.  I  wanted  to  see  Europe 
next.  When  we  came  back  to  New  York  I  went  up 
to  Union  Hall  and  told  them  I  'd  like  to  ship  across. 
I  got  my  wish.  They  sent  me  on  a  Standard  Oil 
steamer  bound  for  Rouen.  At  last  I  was  going  to 
France ! 

I  liked  that  country  from  the  start.  The  first 
sight  I  had  of  it  was  white  houses  and  green  fields 


164        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sa?ii 


and  church  steeples.  I  was  so  busy  looking  at  the 
scenery  I  couldn't  do  a  stroke  of  work.  I  got  lib- 
erty to  go  up  to  Paris,  and  I  saw  all  of  it  for  two 
francs.  I  just  hopped  into  one  of  those  little  cabs 
and  said  to  the  driver  ''Giddap,"  and  he  rode  me 
around.    I  didn't  miss  a  thing. 

We  went  back  to  Norfolk,  where  we  were  quar- 
antined for  seven  days  because  a  yellow  cook  we 
had  broke  out  with  the  same  color  fever.  That 
gave  me  time  to  think,  and  I  made  up  my  mind 
that  I'd  pay  off  and  go  up  and  see  my  folks.  I 
was  sixteen  then,  hard  as  nails  and  pretty  pros- 
perous. 

Once  ashore  I  bought  myself  everything  from 
patent  leather  shoes  to  a  derby  hat.  I  wanted 
them  to  see  I'd  made  good. 

I  walked  in  on  them  at  dinner  time.  My  father 
didn't  know  me,  but  my  mother  did.  '*It's 
George!"  she  hollered,  then  stared  at  me.  But 
father  didn't.  He  wanted  to  lick  me  for  staying 
away  all  those  years.  Mother  wouldn't  let  him, 
though.  She  wanted  to  hear  all  about  where  I'd 
been.     I  was  glad  I  could  put  some  money  in 


The  Wanderlust  and  the  War  165 

the  bank  for  her.  I  stayed  home  about  two  weeks 
and  then  got  so  restless  I  knew  I'd  better  leave 
before  they  threw  me  out. 

Well,  I  let  myself  in  for  an  adventure  that 
time  for  I  went  to  Halifax,  and  from  there 
shipped  on  an  oil  collier  bound  for  Mexico.  We 
struck  a  hurricane  and  were  washed  ashore.  That 
was  my  first  shipwreck.  We  had  to  eat  stores  out 
of  the  ship's  supplies,  which  were  pretty  low  at 
the  time.  I  didn't  like  the  looks  of  things  and  I 
decided  to  foot  it  into  Tampico,  which  we  figured 
wasn't  more  than  forty- two  miles  south  of  us. 

Eight  of  my  mates  and  I  figured  that  by  travel- 
ing toward  the  sun,  we'd  make  it  in  a  couple  of 
days.  We  packed  our  grub  and  put  on  the  good 
heavy  Dutch  sea  boots  we  wore  in  heavy  weather, 
and  set  out  through  the  woods. 

Hot !  Say,  your  head  blistered  under  your  cap. 
We  struck  a  swamp,  but  we  were  afraid  to  go 
back — ^it  was  just  as  bad  as  going  forward — so 
we  started  through,  but  we  miscalculated,  for  we 
spent  a  whole  day  and  night  in  there  before  we 
got  our  bearings. 


166        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

We  climbed  the  branches  of  the  trees  at  nights 
and  slept  as  best  we  could  in  them.  But  two  of 
the  fellows  caught  the  jungle  fever,  and  one  of 
them  died  before  we  could  get  him  out.  We  buried 
him  there  and  marked  the  place. 

Another  man  was  pretty  sick,  and  I  remem- 
ber reading  somewhere  that  sassafras  root  was 
good  for  fever.  We  found  some  grooving  there, 
and  we  managed  to  build  a  fire — but  we  didn't 
have  matches  to  light  it,  so  we  struck  flints  until 
we  got  a  blaze.  We  cooked  the  root  and  gave 
him  the  juice.    It  saved  him. 

On  the  outskirts  of  the  swamp  we  saw  a  little 
Mexican  house.  It  was  the  greatest  sight  I  ever 
want  to  see.  The  woman  was  cooking  some  kind 
of  meat  over  her  fire.  We  didn't  stop  to  inquire 
what  it  was  so  long  as  it  was  f-o-o-d.  That  was 
enough  for  us.  She  was  glad  to  give  us  all  she 
had,  because  American  money  goes  big  down 
there.  Several  of  the  men  stayed  to  look  after 
our  sick  mate,  but  I  hot-footed  it  into  Tampico 
to  find  the  consul  and  try  to  get  back  to  the  States. 
I  found  him  but  he  couldn't  do  anything  for  us. 


The  Wanderlust  and  the  War  167 

I  didn  't  care  much.  It  was  a  pleasant  country, 
so  I  decided  to  stay.  I  was  there  six  months.  At 
last  I  grew  tired  of  everlasting  hot  weather  so  I 
asked  a  skipper  on  an  English  ship  if  he'd  take 
me  back  to  the  States.  I  told  him  I  didn't  care 
about  the  pay,  just  so  long  as  I  got  home.  That 
impressed  him  and  he  signed  me  up  for  a  quarter 
a  month.  He  couldn  't  have  paid  me  less,  but  what 
difference  did  it  make  to  me?  Wasn't  I  getting 
out  of  that  all-fired  hot  country? 

We  docked  at  Baltimore.  I  was  pretty  seedy, 
so  I  took  the  first  job  I  could  get,  which  was 
night  watchman  on  the  docks.  Then  I  wired  my 
mother  that  I  was  stranded  without  clothes  or 
money.  She  sent  it  double  quick.  I  knew  she 
would. 

Once  I  was  outfitted  I  applied  for  a  third  mate 's 
job.  I  had  already  made  my  license,  although  I 
was  only  seventeen.  The  hard  thing  was  getting 
any  skipper  to  believe  I  knew  all  I  claimed  I 
did.  I  found  one  at  last.  I  told  him  to  fire  any 
questions  at  me  he  could  think  of.  He  sure  did. 
He  asked  me  things  a  chief  has  to  know  and  I 


168        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

came  through.  He  took  me  on  as  third  and  I  paid 
off  at  New  York. 

When  I  reached  there  I  went  to  the  seamen  *s 
Bethal,  where  I  got  clothes  and  the  chance  to  ship 
on  an  English  vessel  bonnd  for  the  other  side. 
That  was  in  1915.  The  German  subs  had  started 
their  little  game  of  hide-and-seek,  but  we  didn't 
expect  any  trouble.  However  Fritz  was  waiting 
for  us.  It  was  about  six  o'clock  in  the  evening, 
dark,  with  a  full  moon.  I  was  on  deck  watching 
the  moonlight  on  the  water.  It's  a  sight  I  never 
get  tired  of.  All  was  quiet  except  the  throbbing 
of  our  own  engines,  when  suddenly  we  felt  the 
blow  that  ripped  her  side  open.  A  torpedo  had 
registered  a  hit. 

We  couldn't  see  the  sub;  she  had  gotten  in  the 
moon's  rays,  and  it  was  impossible  to  make  her 
out.  We  didn't  try.  The  order,  ** abandon  ship," 
had  sounded,  but  I  didn  't  make  a  lifeboat ;  instead 
I  dived  off  the  side  of  the  ship  and  swam  around 
in  the  water  for  a  few  minutes  before  somebody 
heard  me  yelling  and  yanked  me  in. 

Next  morning  an  English  schooner  picked  us 


The  Wanderlust  and  the  War  169 

np  and  we  went  ashore.  Say,  but  I  was  mad 
throngh  to  think  of  a  blinking  submarine  sinking 
a  neutral.  I  never  was  neutral  from  that  minute, 
and  when  we  got  into  the  war  I  went  in  the 
navy.  I  knew  that  would  be  the  one  place  I'd 
have  a  chance  to  take  a  shot  at  the  Kaiser's  pets. 

We  carried  a  big  cargo  over;  our  cargo  line 
was  'way  down.  We  had  a  lot  of  green  hands 
aboard,  ** hay-shakers,'*  I  call  them.  Some  of  the 
boys  were  pretty  seasick.  I  bet  they  mshed  they 
had  never  started  across. 

Well,  we  delivered  our  cargo  and  started  back, 
when  sure  enough,  one  dark  night,  we  got  it  again. 
This  time,  though,  I  was  standing  under  the 
bridge,  and  in  the  explosion  a  piece  of  rail  was 
hurled  against  me  that  broke  both  legs. 

A  big  Swede,  who  had  always  a  hand  out  to 
help  everybody,  hoisted  me  into  a  lifeboat,  but  in 
launching  it  was  smashed  up.  I  was  in  the  water 
and  I  certainly  thought  my  last  hour  had  come, 
but  I  found  the  big  Swede  was  swimming  beside 
me,  and  he  dragged  me  onto  a  piece  of  board  float- 
ing by.    I  lay  there  until  it  was  light  and  in  answer 


170        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

to  our  S.  0.  S.,  American  destroyers  came  on  and 
picked  up  our  boats.  Was  I  glad  to  see  the  good 
old  American  flag?  Was  I!  I  didn't  know  much 
when  they  hauled  me  aboard — the  pain  was  pretty 
bad,  but  they  sent  me  to  a  hospital  over  there,  and 
before  long  I  was  around  again,  fine  as  ever. 
Takes  more  than  a  German  sub  to  keep  me 
down, 

I  went  back  to  the  States  in  style  on  a  trans- 
port. As  I  always  carried  my  Union  book  I  had 
no  trouble  in  getting  another  new  outfit,  once  I 
reached  my  home  port.  I  set  out  for  France  on 
a  cargo  vessel.  Well,  say,  it  was  clear  sailing  over. 
We  met  our  convoy  and  they  hoisted  up  their  sig- 
nal flag.  We  were  all  of  two  hours  making  it  out. 
At  last  we  could  read  it,  it  spelled : 

''What  are  you  doing, — bringing  Brooklyn 
Bridge  over  with  you?"  They  were  making  fun 
of  our  queer-shaped  bridge.  Well,  we  started 
back,  but  I  know  things  always  happened  in  threes 
so  I  was  pretty  sure  we'd  get  it  going  home.  I 
was  right. 

It  was  my  watch,  late  in  the  afternoon.    I  was 


The  Wanderlust  and  the  War         171 

keeping  a  sharp  lookout  when  I  saw  the  torpedo 
scndding  toward  us. 

''Wake  of  a  torpedo  in  starboard  bow!''  T 
yelled.  Say,  that  vessel  wheeled  like  a  streak — 
and  the  torpedo  missed.  But  the  next  one  didn't. 
Bing! — I  felt  the  big  ship  quiver  under  me,  and 
the  explosion  that  followed  blew  me  so  high  that 
I  came  down  in  the  paint  locker  with  my  arm 
under  me. 

You'd  think  I'd  be  used  to  torpedoing  by  this 
time,  and  could  keep  my  sea  legs  under  fire,  but 
I  didn't.  I'm  getting  better  though,  and  I'm 
waiting  to  get  a  shot  at  Fritz  that  will  send  him 
where  he  '11  stay  for  a  while.  I  certainly  am  glad 
every  time  I  hear  we've  sunk  one  of  them,  but  I 
always  wish  I  was  one  of  the  crew  of  that  lucky 
ship. 


CHIEF  NURSE  STEVENS 
SPEAKS : 


UNDER  THE  RED  CROSS  BANNER 

I  was  educated  abroad.  That's  how  I  came  to 
love  France  and  England  almost  as  well  as  my 
own  country.  I  was  in  my  teens  when  I  returned 
to  America.  I  had  always  wanted  to  be  a  nurse. 
Even  while  at  school  I  longed  for  the  days  when  I 
should  be  old  enough  to  begin  training.  It  was  my 
calling,  and,  when  I  left  school,  I  answered  it. 

I  trained  in  France,  England  and  America.  I 
had  practised  but  a  short  while  when  I  married. 
My  husband  was  a  surgeon,  and  from  him  I 
learned  more  of  nursing  than  I  could  ever  hoped 
to  have  acquired  from  text-books.  We  were  al- 
ways together.  We  played  and  worked  and  trav- 
eled all  over  the  world.  When  he  died,  it  was  like 
a  great  light  going  out.  I  did  not  know  where  to 
turn — I  did  not  know  what  to  do.  Even  to  this 
day  I  cannot  get  used  to  his  being  away  from 
me.  It  always  seems  as  though  he  were  on  one  of 
his  professional  trips  and  would  return. 

175 


176        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 


And  then  in  1914,  just  six  months  after  his  death, 
war  came,  and  I  knew  that  my  place  was  in  France, 
so  I  sailed  at  once  and  enlisted  in  the  nursing 
corps. 

Those  were  the  days  before  the  great  base  hos- 
pitals were  established — the  days  when  the  dead 
and  wounded  were  left  in  piles  awaiting  such  care 
as  could  be  given  them  by  the  handful  of  over- 
worked doctors  and  nurses. 

It  was  there  I  found  my  * '  son. ' '  We  had  come 
to  a  group  of  white-faced  boys — the  mark  of  death 
on  their  brow.  Lying  a  little  apart  from  the  others 
was  a  young  Frenchman.  He  had  an  ugly  shrap- 
nel wound  on  his  shoulder.  He  was  unconscious 
when  we  found  him,  but  he  was  so  appealing,  so 
young,  that  my  heart  went  out  to  him.  His  clothes 
were  stained  with  dirt  and  blood,  and  the  mud 
was  caked  on  his  cheek,  where  he  had  fallen. 

When  we  moved  in,  he  opened  his  eyes. 
' '  Maman, ' '  he  said,  and  smiled  at  me.  I  think  that 
was  what  won  me  completely. 

I  watched  over  his  convalescence  and  learned 
that  his  own  mother  was  not  living,  so  when  he 


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Under  the  Red  Cross  Banner  177 

was  well  once  more  and  ready  to  return  to  duty,  I 
adopted  him  as  my  ^'fils  de  guerre,"  and  to  tliis 
day  I  hear  from  him  twice  a  month — ^and  such  let- 
ters !  Full  of  his  battles  and  his  play  at  the  rest 
billets — his  dreams  and  his  hopes.  He  is  France 
at  her  best,  mth  the  love  of  youth  and  life  and 
country  in  his  heart. 
There  w^ere  sights  on  that  battlefield  you  never 

forget — never.    It  was  the  bodies  of  Frenchwomen 
left  dead  by  the   Germans  that  haunt  me — the 

women  they  dragged  from  captured  France  and 

took  with  them  to  their  trenches.     We  used  to 

thank  God  when  we  came  upon  these  girls  that  we 

found  them  dead.    At  least  these  few  were  out  of 

their  unfathomable  depths  of  misery  at  last. 

After  ten  months  of  nursing  in  France,  the  doc- 
tors ordered  a  rest — no — commanded  it,  so  I  left 
the  service  and  went  to  England  to  visit  an  old 
schoohnate,  now  married.  Her  husband  was  at 
the  front,  but  her  father,  a  peer,  whose  name  is 
a  great  one  in  England,  lived  with  her. 

He  had  known  me  since  childhood.  He  was  very 
fond  of  me.    He  was  a  man  of  great  importance  to 


178        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

the  government,  but  he  had  a  delightful  way  of 
dropping  all  the  cares  of  State,  once  he  reached 
home,  and  of  romping  with  his  two  tiny  grandsons 
whom  he  adored. 

In  their  home  I  found  the  quiet  I  craved,  and, 
as  I  grew  stronger,  I  longed  to  get  back  once  more 
to  duty.  I  knew  so  well  the  desperate  need  for 
trained  workers.  My  friends  sensed  my  gromng 
restlessness  and  Violet's  father  spoke  of  it  at 
dinner  one  evening. 

**Why  not  join  the  British  army?"  he  asked 
me.    "I'll  try  to  get  you  a  good  post." 

There  were  a  number  of  guests  present,  and,  as 
Sir  Arthur  sat  quite  far  from  me,  I  did  not  catch 
what  he  had  said.  But  Violet  had.  She  leaned 
across  and  called  to  me. 

**You  aren't  listening  to  father — ^he  means 
you."  I  turned  toward  him  eagerly.  *' Why  not 
join  the  British  ranks?"  he  repeated.  **You  say 
you  feel  fit  again  and  want  to  get  out  there.  Well, 
I'll  give  you  a  chance  to  prove  it." 

I  didn't  believe  he  half  meant  it,  for  his  eyes 
twinkled ;  but  I  caught  at  it. 

**I  cannot  get  to  the  front  soon  enough  to  please 


Under  the  Red  Cross  Banner  179 

me, ' '  I  cried.  * '  Just  try  me  and  see, "  and  no  more 
was  said  about  it. 

The  days  passed  and  the  lovely  English  sununer 
changed  into  autumn.  I  felt  splendidly.  One  day 
I  came  in  from  a  long  walk.  I  glowed  with  health. 
I  just  knew  that  I  could  not  remain  idle  another 
instant.  I  found  Violet  in  the  nursery  with  her 
babies.  I  told  her  I  must  go.  She  laughed 
at  me. 

' '  So  long  as  yon  feel  that  way,  it 's  fortunate  this 
letter  came  for  you  this  morning,  isn't  it?"  and 
she  laid  in  my  hands  a  long,  official-looking  docu- 
ment, bearing  the  royal  coat-of-arms  in  one  cor- 
ner. I  tore  it  open.  It  was  a  command  to  appear 
before  the  Matron-in-Chief  of  her  Majesty's  army. 
I  knew  by  the  time  that  I  had  finished  reading  it 
that  Sir  Arthur  was  responsible  in  a  large  meas- 
ure. He  was  well  aware  of  the  fact  that  no  neu- 
tral could  serve  in  the  Allied  armies  unless  by 
royal  order.  I  flew  to  the  office  of  the  Matron-in- 
Chief.  My  knees  knocked  together.  Could  I  qual- 
ify in  her  eyes  for  a  post  at  the  front? 

What  transpired  seemed  like  a  golden  dream  to 
me.    I  was  appointed  Chief  Nurse — or  Matron,  as 


180        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

they  call  us  Over  There — of  a  hospital  ship  hold- 
ing four  thousand  beds !  I  did  not  show  my  inward 
tremors.  If  it  could  be  done,  I  was  going  to  do  it 
— I,  an  American — and  what  was  more  I  was  go- 
ing to  make  those  British  nurses  on  my  staff  love 
me  in  spite  of  themselves.  I  dared  not  think  how 
afraid  I  was  to  tackle  it.  I  just  kept  saying,  ''I'll 
doit!    I  Ve  ^0^  to,  so  I  can." 

I  returned  to  Violet  and  dropped  in  a  heap  on 
a  couch. 

' 'What's  happened? "  she  demanded — and  I  told 
her.    She  listened,  her  eyes  like  stars. 

"How  splendid !  You  can  do  it  if  anyone  in  the 
world  can !  You've  proved  your  worth  in  France. 
Oh,  I  am  so  happy  that  you  are  to  look  after  our 
poor  boys!" 

Sir  Arthur  came  in  at  this  moment.  I  knew  by 
his  smile  that  he  had  been  listening. 

"Well,  well,  so  you  are  to  be  a  Matron,  are 
you  ? "  he  teased.    I  nodded.   I  was  past  speech. 

"Perhaps  you  don't  know  that  you  will  be  ga- 
zetted as  Major  in  the  British  army  as  well.  That 
will  probably  be  your  official  rank." 


Under  the  Red  Cross  Banner  181 

And  a  major  I  became  on  my  floating  hospital. 
I  felt  strangely  alone  at  first.  The  only  American 
among  so  many  English.  For  the  first  time  in  my 
life  I  longed  for  my  compatriots.  Then  one  day 
as  we  lay  at  anchor  in  the  harbor,  I  saw,  some  dis- 
tance away,  a  battleship  flying  from  her  mast  the 
Stars  and  Stripes.  I  began  to  cry,  I  was  so  glad  to 
see  my  own  flag  again.  I  asked  our  wireless  oper- 
ator if  he  would  send  her  a  message. 

**Will  you  ask  an  American  officer  aboard  the 
Man-o'-War  to  come  aboard  the  British  Hospital 
ship  and  speak  with  an  American  woman*?"  The 
instrument  snapped  the  message.  The  battleship 
caught  it,  and,  a  few  hours  later,  I  saw  an  Ameri- 
can Naval  officer  for  the  first  time  in  over  a  year. 

I  had  never  met  him  before,  but  I  was  so  glad 
to  talk  with  him  of  our  own  land  that  I  dreaded 
the  time  when  he  must  return  to  his  ship.  He  went 
at  length,  and  I  followed  him  with  my  binoculars. 
It  gave  me  a  warm  feeling  around  my  heart  to 
have  a  Yankee  ship  so  close  by. 

Once  I  started  to  work  in  earnest,  I  found  that 
my  nurses  were  eager  to  cooperate  with  me  in 


182        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

every  way.  Instead  of  resenting  my  authority 
over  them,  they  were  anxious  to  help  me,  and  the 
fear  I  felt  of  my  ability  to  handle  this  great  task 
was  swallowed  up  by  the  mountains  of  work  before 
me.  There  was  no  time  to  fear  or  to  rejoice. 
There  was  no  time  for  self,  with  four  thousand 
souls  aboard  who  needed  caring  for  each  hour  of 
the  day  and  night.  For  our  ship  was  loaded  with 
the  wounded  from  that  desperate  fighting  in  the 
Dardanelles. 

There  were  a  great  per  cent  who  came  to  us 
with  hands  and  feet  cruelly  frozen,  from  the  weeks 
and  even  months  in  icy  trenches.  Then  there  were 
shell-shock  cases.  One  which  appealed  to  us  all 
was  of  a  chaplain,  adored  by  his  regiment. 
Through  the  heaviest  fire  he  had  stood  by  his 
flock  with  no  thought  for  his  own  safety.  An  ex- 
ploding shell  had  brought  on  that  strange  state 
of  aphasia.  He  did  what  he  was  told  to  do  do- 
cilely and  quietly,  but  he  remembered  nothing  that 
had  gone  before. 

He  was  sent  back  to  London,  his  mind  still 
clouded.    I  used  to  think  of  him  often— his  quiet, 


Under  the  Med  Cross  Banner  18.3 

studious  face  and  soldierly  bearing  and  his  eyes 
with  their  eternal  question  in  them,  which  none 
of  us  could  answer  for  him. 

Months  later  I  saw  him  again.  The  government 
was  in  need  of  a  matron  to  take  charge  of  a  four- 
hundred-and-fifty-bed  ship  bound  for  South  Af- 
rica. Fierce  battles  were  raging  in  Mesopotamia. 
I  was  selected  for  the  task.  I  had  eight  nurses  and 
a  hospital  corps  of  fifty. 

As  I  came  aboard  her,  I  saw  a  familiar  figure 
standing  by  the  gang-plank.  I  caught  my  breath. 
It  was  the  chaplain  himself.  There  he  stood,  smil- 
ing quietly,  with  hands  outstretched. 

**I  am  going  with  you,  Matron, "  he  told  me,  "to 
care  for  the  boys." 

He  was  well  once  more  and  back  again  in  the 
field. 

Malaria  was  rampant  in  Africa.  Our  ship  ex- 
ceeded capacity  by  over  a  hundred  cases— men 
with  raging  fevers.  Working  at  top  speed,  Ave 
could  not  bathe  them  all,  and  cold  baths  alone  could 
save  them. 

The  convalescent  officers  helped  us.   We  worked 


184        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sa 


m 


like  machines.  Some  of  the  nurses  caught  the 
tropical  fever,  too,  but  they  stuck  by  their  post. 
They  did  not  dare  give  in.  There  were  too  many 
sick  and  dying  men  calling  for  them.  I  have  known 
those  girls  to  stand  on  their  feet  when  their  own 
temperatures  ranged  between  103  and  104  degrees. 
They  laughed  at  the  idea  of  giving  in.  They 
couldn't.    That  was  all. 

You  have  heard  of  the  brutality  of  the  Turk. 
Let  me  tell  you  he  is  gentle  compared  to  the 
ferocity  of  the  Germans.  "VVe  lay  at  anchor  near 
Salonika.  The  Turks  were  on  one  side  of  the  Gulf, 
the  British  on  the  other.  More  than  once  I  have 
seen  the  Turks  hoist  a  white  flag  to  us,  and,  when 
we  have  at  length  replied  to  it  with  our  flag  of 
truce,  they  have  sent  an  envoy  aboard.  Always, 
he  desired  to  parley  with  the  Matron  instead  of 
with  the  Commander,  and  I  would  be  summoned  to 
receive  his  message. 

*'Mem  Sahib,"  he  would  say,  *'we  are  about  to 
open  fire  on  the  British.  You  will  move  your  ship 
about  fifty  yards.  You  will  then  be  out  of  dan- 
ger."   He  would  bow  and  return  to  his  regiment. 


Under  the  Red  Cross  Banner  185 

giving  us  ample  time  to  move  before  the  great 
gnns  roared  once  more. 

But  the  Germans !  To  bomb  a  field  hospital  or 
shell  an  ambulance,  or  sink  a  Red  Cross  ship  is  a 
triumph  for  them! 

It  was  three  o'clock  one  morning.  We  lay  in 
the  Mediterranean.  An  accident  case  needed  in- 
stant care.  I  ran  to  prepare  the  ''theater,"  as  we 
call  the  operating  room.  The  patient  was  treated 
and  had  been  lifted  to  a  stretcher  when  the  Huns' 
torpedo  struck  us. 

Then  came  the  crash,  the  sudden  trembling  of 
the  ship  and  the  sudden  dreadful  listing.  "We  car- 
ried the  man  to  the  deck,  scrambling  up  as  best  we 
could.  The  engine  had  not  been  struck,  but  the 
stern  was  shattered.  Every  man  who  was  able 
to,  reached  the  deck  with  life-belt  on,  and  the 
nurses  and  doctors  flew  to  the  rescue  of  those  be- 
low. 

We  carried  them  all  on  deck,  and  the  Com- 
mander faced  us  quietly. 

**The  boats  on  the  port  side  are  smashed,  and 
those  on  starboard  cannot  be  lowered." 


186        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 


There  was  not  a  sound  for  a  full  moment  after 
he  spoke,  as  the  awful  truth  dawoied  upon  us. 
Then  his  voice  rang  out : 

*' There  is  only  one  chance — to  jump  for  your 
lives." 

Jump  for  your  lives !  I  looked  at  the  men  who 
were  too  ill  to  be  moved,  who  lay  unconscious,  with 
flushed  cheeks  and  closed  eyes.  Jump  for  our 
lives !  What  chance  had  they?  Truly  the  Boches 
could  take  toll  that  night  if  they  counted  sick  and 
wounded  men  and  Eed  Cross  nurses  as  fair 
prey.  .  .  . 

The  Commander  shouted  to  us:  '*Jump  feet 
first.    Watch  out — jump  feet  first." 

We  had  practised  doing  it  in  the  tank  on  the 
way  over.  With  life-belts  on,  it  is  the  only  way  of 
preserving  your  balance. 

The  men  were  dragging  out  tables  and  tearing 
up  planks  for  rafts.  They  hurled  them  into  the 
water,  and  little  groups  of  them  climbed  the  rail, 
stood  poised  an  instant  above  the  black  depths  be- 
low them — then  leaped  down.  .  .  . 

The  voices  of  hundreds  of  struggling  men  rang 


Under  the  Red  Cross  Banner  187 

in  on  our  ears  and  we  were  helpless  to  aid  them. 

The  Commander  called  the  nurses  to  him. 

* '  You  go  next, ' '  he  told  them.  ' '  The  Matron  and 
I  will  jump  last. ' ' 

They  were  the  bravest,  coolest  lot  of  girls  I  have 
ever  seen.  They  climbed  the  rail,  hand  in  hand. 
They  hesitated  a  second — with  a  shudder  at  what 
lay  before  them,  then  they  leaped  forward.  .  .  . 
I  could  not  look.  Only  the  Commander  and  I  re- 
mained.   He  drew  me  to  the  rail. 

'*!  can^t  do  it,"  I  cried,  drawing  back.  But  he 
was  very  firm. 

"Come,"  he  said  quietly,  *'it  will  soon  be  too 

late." 

He  helped  me  up.  My  heart  was  thumping  like 
a  trip-hammer  in  my  breast.  I  could  not— I  could 
jioi— could  not  jump.  He  drew  me  down  suddenly. 
I  lost  my  footing  and  plunged  after  him.  The 
water  closed  over  me.  It  seemed  hours  before  I 
came  to  the  top.  For  a  long  time  I  could  not  move. 
At  length  I  began  to  swim.  I  knew  enough  to  get 
as  far  away  as  I  could  from  the  suction  that  would 
draw  me  as  the  ship  sank. 


188        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

Three  hours  later  patrols  picked  ns  up. 

And  yet,  I  love  the  water.  If  I  am  ashore  and 
cannot  sleep,  I  pretend  my  room  is  a  cabin  and 
that  I  am  on  a  quietly  rocking  sea.  That  is  why  I 
entered  the  Navy  nurse  corps  of  my  country  when 
she  declared  war  on  Germany. 

So  I  have  served  under  three  flags  since  war 
was  declared,  and  at  last — at  last  I  am  under  my 
own! 


GUNNER'S  MATE  M 'QUIRE 
SPEAKS : 


"ABANDON  SHIP!" 

Me  father  was  always  talkin'  about  the  old  coun- 
try. Sure  and  he  said  there  was  nothin'  in  the 
whole  of  America  to  compare  with  a  corner  of 
County  Cork !  We  kids  used  to  poke  fun  at  him, 
but  I'm  confessin'  it  made  us  kinder  hanker  to  see 
that  land  ourselves. 

He  was  after  claimin'  that  the  grass  was 
greener  there  than  anywhere  else  on  earth  and  the 
sky  bluer.  As  a  kid  I  planned  to  run  away  and 
ship  over  there  just  to  see  if  the  old  man  was 
givin'  it  to  us  straight.  But  it  was  to  Canada  I 
drifted,  and,  because  I  have  more  inches  than  most 
men,  the  Northwest  Mounted  sent  me  an  engraved 
invitation  askin'  me  to  join  them,  which  I  did  for 
six  years. 

Sure,  it's  a  great  way  to  spend  your  days,  ridin' 
through  snow  and  ice  or  mud  and  mosquitoes — ac- 
cording to  the  season — after  the  gang  of  outlaws 
ninnin'  loose  up  there.    But  it  was  always  wor- 

191 


192        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 


ryin',  the  wife  was,  for  fear  I  couldn't  shoot  quick 
enough  and  they'd  get  the  drop  on  me.  She'd  tell 
me  that  it  was  the  kid  she  was  considerin' — she 
wasn't  wantin'  to  bring  him  up  without  a  father. 
She'd  say  he  was  too  big  a  handful  for  her  to 
manage,  then  get  around  me  by  claimin'  he  was  a 
chip  off  the  old  block  all  right — all  right. 

So  I  give  up  me  post  in  the  Northwest  and  set- 
tled down  in  Winnipeg.  Then  the  war  came  and 
I  could  see  reasons  all  over  the  place  for  me 
joinin'  up  at  once.  First  of  all,  though  me  coun- 
try was  America,  me  home  was  in  Canada  and  I 
knew  that  nine-tenths  of  the  Canucks  would  be 
friends  of  mine.  Then  secondly,  wasn't  I  Irish, 
which  meant  gettin'  into  any  scrap  that  was  goin', 
so  help  mef 

Well,  the  wife  held  me  back  at  the  start.  She 
kept  coaxin'  me  to  bide  a  bit.  She  argued  the 
States  wasn't  in  trouble  yet,  so  I  listened  with  one 
ear,  but  with  the  other  I  was  hearin'  from  all  sides 
about  the  greatest  free-for-all  fight  in  the  world's 
history,  and  I  knew  that  me,  Patrick  M 'Quire,  had 
no  business  to  be  standin'  by. 


^r' ''^-■-'Y^""-'-  "iBMj 


o 


C 

CO 


O 

m 
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«2 


"Abandon  Shipr  193 


The  wife  wasn't  well  and  she  was  always 
frettin'  at  the  thought  of  me  enlistin',  so  I  told 
her  I  'd  wait,  but  I  warned  her  that  it  was  entirely 
responsible  she'd  be  if  Germany  tied  the  Allies  in 
a  show-down.  I  told  her  I  was  a  sharpshooter 
with  a  record  in  the  Northwest  to  be  proud  of.  I 
asked  her  why  she  was  keepin'  me  back.  Sure, 
I  demanded  what  business  she  had  to  be  hamperin' 
the  Allies '  chances  like  that ! 

Well,  me  humor  fell  on  deaf  ears  and  I 
stayed  until  me  own  country,  the  United  States 
of  America,  declared  war,  and  that  same  after- 
noon, by  the  grace  of  God,  I  walked  meself  up, 
bought  tickets  for  the  States,  packed  me  family 
aboard  and  two  days  later  joined  the  navy. 

It's  compromisin'  I  was  when  I  joined.  I  told 
the  wife  that  the  fear  of  trenches  or  gas  attacks 
need  never  enter  her  heart,  but  I  knew  as  well  as 
me  own  name  the  danger  on  the  seas  of  Fritz  get- 
tin'  playful  and  stickin'  a  torpedo  in  your  ribs — 
but  why  worry  her  ? 

Better  than  me  prayers  I  knew  firearms.  I 
could  take  a  rifle  apart  and  put  it  together  again 


194        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

with  me  eyes  closed.  I  had  had  as  many  machine 
guns  jam  on  me  as  the  next  fellow.  I  was  entirely 
qualified  to  be  a  gunner's  mate,  which,  I  assure 
you,  I  wasted  no  time  becomin'. 

They  shipped  me  over  on  a  British  auxiliary — a 
cargo  ship.  For  the  two  months  they  held  me  at 
the  trainin'  station.  The  wife  had  been  knittin' 
and  knittin'!  If  I'd  been  bound  straight  for  the 
North  Pole  I  couldn't  be  after  havin'  more  hel- 
mets or  sweaters  or  socks  or  wristlets  than  she 
sent  me.  Whist!  how  these  women  do  slave  for 
us.  It  was  askin'  her  not  to,  that  I  did  at  first, 
until  I  saw  it  was  givin'  her  the  only  mite  of  pleas- 
ure she  could  squeeze  out  of  me  goin'  away. 
Women  is  like  that.  They  wants  to  be  babyin' 
their  men  folks  until  the  end  of  the  story. 

What  I  valued  most  of  all  was  a  picture  she  had 
taken  with  the  kid.  That  nearly  finished  me.  I 
was  after  winkin'  and  blinkin'  over  it  like  an  old 
fool  parted  from  his  senses.  But  she  looked  so 
sweet  smilin'  at  me  there  and  the  kid  looked  so 
clean  it  almost  broke  me  up. 

I  set  sail  on  a  warm  June  day.    There  was  no 


'Abandon  Ship!"  195 


chance  to  go  home  and  say  good-bye.  In  a  way 
I  was  glad  of  that.  She  was,  too.  It's  rough 
weather  we  had  all  the  way  and  plenty  of  work, 
but  I  liked  the  life.  I  was  hard  as  nails.  I  was 
strong  from  bein'  outdoors  twenty-nine  years  of 
me  thirty.  Weather  didn't  worry  me — rain  or 
shine  was  all  the  same. 

We  came  to  the  Zone.  *  *  Aha ! ' '  says  I  to  meself , 
"so  this  is  the  patch  Fritz  has  picked  to  try  his 
luck  with  us  as  a  target!"  I  kept  wishin'  for  a 
sight  of  him.  Sure,  I  stayed  awake  nights  wor- 
ryin'  for  fear  the  convoy  sent  out  to  meet  us  would 
be  so  good  it  would  scare  all  the  subs  away.  It 
was  nearin'  the  point  where  we  expected  the  sub 
chasers  to  meet  us  that  I  got  me  wish. 

It  was  about  five  in  the  afternoon  with  the  sun 
goin'  down  like  a  red  balloon,  when  we  sighted  a 
raft  with  a  barrel  propped  up  at  one  end.  There 
were  two  fellows  aboard  her,  in  a  bad  way  from 
the  looks  of  them,  stripped  to  their  waists,  wavin' 
their  shirts  to  us  for  help. 

We  had  been  after  hearin'  how  dangerous  it 
was  to  stop  your  engine  in  the  Zone  and  rescue 


196        Over  the  Seas  for   Uncle  Sam 

survivors,  but  good  God !  who  'd  have  the  heart  to 
pass  those  poor  fellows  by!  Perhaps  they  had 
wives  and  kids  at  home  same  as  us.  "We  drew  up 
about  five  hundred  yards  from  them  and  started 
to  lower  the  boat  when  the  raft  rose  out  of  the 
water  and  turned  over  and  the  men  dived  off. 
Under  it  we  saw  the  deck  of  a  submarine,  the  bar- 
rel still  on  her  periscope. 

It's  trapped  we  were  by  her  dirty  trick!  She 
struck  us  amidships  and  then  submerged.  There 
wasn't  time  to  fire.  We  were  sinkin'  stem  first. 
The  boats  were  swung  down  and  I  started  to  get 
into  me  own  when  I  remembered  the  wife's  pic- 
ture! Sure,  I  had  to  have  it!  There  wasn't  no 
two  ways  about  it.  I  just  wouldn't  get  off  the  ship 
without  it.  Someone  called  to  me  to  come  on. 
Someone  pulled  me  arm.    But  I  tore  it  loose. 

* '  It 's  goin '  back  I  am, ' '  I  told  him. 

^'You're  crazy!  She'll  be  down  in  four  min- 
utes." 

*'I  tell  you,  it's  goin'  back  I  am  .  .  ." 

And  he  let  me  go.  I  guess  he  thought  he'd  done 
his  best  to  save  a  poor  loon.    All  hands  were  on 


'Abandon  Ship!"  197 


deck.  I  made  for  the  hatchway  and  found  it  fillin' 
with  water.  The  furniture  was  floatin '  around  like 
the  little  toys  the  kid  puts  in  the  bath  tub. 

I  fought  me  way  to  me  bunk.  Over  it  I  'd  nailed 
the  picture.  I  felt  with  me  hands  until  I  found  it. 
I  tore  it  off  the  wall  and  stuffed  it  in  me  shirt,  then 
I  started  out.  The  water  was  clean  up  to  me  waist 
and  pourin '  in.  The  force  of  it  sent  the  chairs  and 
tables  crashin'  against  the  wall.  I  dodged  them 
and  found  the  stairs.  They  were  submerged.  It's 
on  me  hands  and  knees  I  crawled,  until  I  reached 
the  top.    The  water  poured  in  on  me. 

I  found  the  deck  deserted.  I  looked  down.  A 
few  boats  were  bobbin'  on  the  waves.  I  dived  off. 
"When  I  came  up  it  did  me  eyes  good  to  see  a  boat 
a  few  yards  away.  I  swam  toward  it  and  they 
pulled  me  in.  A  seaman  named  Doyle  and  another 
called  Hooper  were  good  strokes.  They  rowed  all 
eighteen  of  us  away  out  when  the  cruiser  went 
down. 

About  a  hundred  yards  from  us  was  a 
boat  full  of  our  officers.  It  was  decidin'  to  follow 
them  we  were,  when  the  submarine  came  to  sur- 


198        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

face  again.  She  was  after  knowin'  which  boat 
held  officers,  too — ^no  doubt  about  that,  because  she 
trained  her  machine  gun  on  the  lot  of  them  with- 
out wastin'  time,  and  opened  fire.  Yes,  by  God! 
shootin^  on  men  adrift  in  a  lifeboat  I 

That's  a  sample  of  Hun  fightin'  I  won't  forget 
in  a  hurry!  I'd  have  given  me  life  and  that  of 
all  me  dear  ones  just  then  for  a  chance  to  cut  the 
throats  of  those  cool  devils  on  her  deck,  pumpin' 
death  into  that  boat  load  of  helpless  young- 
sxers.  •  •  • 

We  expected  to  get  it  next  and  it's  ready  for 
them  we  were.  I  hoped  with  all  me  heart  and  soul 
that  they'd  come  close  enough  to  hear  the  names 
I  was  callin'  them.  But  they  didn't  honor  us — 
not  them.  They  figured  that  we  were  all  enlisted 
men,  not  worth  wastin'  a  shot  on,  for  they  sub- 
merged. 

It  was  growin'  dark,  but  there  was  still  light 
enough  for  us  to  take  stock  of  our  fodder.  All 
lifeboats  are  well  equipped — provided  with  ten 
gallon  barrels  of  water,  and  with  tins  of  bacon  and 
crackers.    It's  glad  to  find  the  food  and  water  we 


'Abandon  Ship!"  199 


were.  The  chances  were  pretty  fair  of  our  bein' 
rescued  in  a  day  or  two.  That  was  good,  seein' 
we  hadn't  a  compass  and  most  of  us  was  green. 
We  couldn't  even  pick  the  stars  and  none  of  us 
knew  seamanship. 

We  could  do  nothin'  but  wait  until  mornin'  and 
pray  for  the  sight  of  a  sail.  Mornin'  came.  We 
were  stiff,  'part  from  wet  clothes  and  'part  from 
the  hard  boards  on  which  we'd  been  lyin'. 

There  were  four  boys  aboard — just  kids,  not 
more  than  eighteen  or  nineteen.  It's  game  they 
were,  all  right.  They  were  the  life  of  that  gang. 
It's  ''Cheer  up,  they'll  find  us  to-day,"  they'd  tell 
us. 

One  of  them  was  bubblin'  over  with  spirits.  He 
was  a  big,  blond  kid  called  Terry.  He  was  one  of 
the  gun's  crew  and  I'd  liked  him  from  the  start. 
He  appointed  himself  C.  P.  O.  in  charge  of  the 
chow  and  dished  out  the  crackers  and  bacon  to  us, 
jokin'  about  our  table  de  hote  and  sayin'  he'd  try 
to  do  better  next  meal. 

Some  of  the  older  men  aboard  shook  their  heads 
over  the  way  we  was  eatin'. 


200        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

** Better  hold  back  on  the  rations  and  water," 
they  warned  us.    *'We  ain't  rescued  yet." 

But  we  laughed  them  down.  "VVe  felt  sure  some 
ship  must  have  caught  our  S.  0.  S.  the  night  be- 
fore. It  stood  to  reason  help  was  hurryin'  toward 
us. 

We  took  turns  scannin'  the  horizon.  It  wasn't 
hard,  because  the  sky  was  cloudy.  "We  didn't  say 
so,  but  it's  hopin'  we  were  that  there  wouldn't  be 
a  squall.  It  wasn't  long  before  the  water  grew 
choppy  and  a  mist  came  up.  Some  of  the  men  were 
glooms  for  fair. 

*'Fog  risin'.  We  couldn't  see  a  ship  if  she  was 
alongside  of  us,"  they  growled. 

The  boys  wouldn't  be  downed. 

"We'll  shout  just  to  show  them  we're  here," 
they  said,  and,  at  intervals  all  that  long  night, 
their  voices  rang  out,  but  no  answer  did  we  get. 

Along  toward  mornin'  it  began  to  rain  in  ear- 
nest. We  caught  the  raindrops  in  our  mouths. 
We  decided  to  start  economizin'  in  water.  It 
cleared  up  the  third  day  and  the  sun  came  out.  It 
burned  our  wet  faces.    Some  of  the  men  slept,  but 


"Abandon  Ship!'' 201 

most  of  us  kept  a  lookout.  Help  must  be  comin' 
soon.  We  didn  't  know  in  what  direction  land  lay. 
Sure,  we  'd  pull  toward  the  north,  then  hold  a  coun- 
cil and  decide  it  was  the  wrong  way  after  all,  so 
we  'd  start  off  due  east.  But  we  didn 't  row  as  hard 
as  we  had  the  first  day — not  by  a  long  sight.  Some 
of  the  men  were  against  goin '  away  too  far  from 
the  place  where  our  ship  went  do"v\m. 

**If  we'd  stayed  around  there  we'd  have  been 
picked  up  by  now. ' ' 

The  men  were  gettin'  sulky,  blamin'  each  other. 

*'Sure,  if  you'd  listened  to  me "  we  all 

started  off. 

Only  Terry  didn't  get  sore.  He  and  the  other 
three  kids  wouldn't  give  up  hopin'. 

'*0h,  they'll  find  us  by  another  day,"  he'd  grin. 
*' What 'sbitin' you  all?" 

The  fourth  day  dawned  and  slipped  by.  No 
help.  The  fifth  day  came,  and  with  it  a  storm  that 
tossed  our  boat  from  the  crest  of  one  big  wave  to 
another.  The  water  washed  over  us  in  torrents. 
We  bailed  like  madmen  to  keep  afloat  at  all. 

Sure,  now,  it's  queer  when  you  come  to  think 


202        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

of  it,  how  hard  men  will  work  just  to  keep  that 

little  spark  of  life  inside  of  them.    With  no  hope 

in  view  they  won't  give  up  while  there  is  strength 
in  them  to  go  on  with  the  fight. 

We  proved  it  through  those  days  of  black  hor- 
ror, in  an  open  boat  on  a  sea  full  of  salt  water. 
That  was  the  awful  fact  that  stared  us  in  the  face 
as  the  days  slid  by — no  gettin'  away  from  it — a 
certain  knowledge  that  the  water  in  those  barrels 
was  gettin'  lower  and  lower. 

Six  days — seven  days — eight  days  .  .  .  Over  a 
week  adrift,  drenched  to  your  skin  all  the  time, 
cold  as  ice  at  nights  and  hot  as  fire  by  day.  Crack- 
ers and  bacon  .  .  .  bacon  and  crackers  .  .  .  and 
not  enough  of  either  to  last  much  longer — and 
then  what?  .  .  . 

We  didn't  talk  much.  Even  the  kids,  when  they 
weren't  asleep  in  a  sort  of  stupor,  would  stare  out 
at  sea.  Then  on  one  mornin'  we  made  out  smoke 
on  the  horizon!  It  was  an  hour  of  rejoicin'.  We 
were  that  wild  with  joy  we  stood  up  and  yelled 
until  our  voices  cracked.  We  raised  our  wet  shirts 
on  an  oar  and  waved  them,  but  it  was  no  use. 


'Abandon  Shipr  203 


The   smoke  vanished,  they  had  never   seen  us. 

Some  of  the  men  sat  down  and  cried  like  babies. 
I  wanted  to,  God  knows,  but  it's  responsible  I  felt 
for  those  youngsters.  Now  supposin',  I'd  keep 
tellin'  meself,  that  one  of  them  was  me  own  kid. 
Would  I  be  after  lettin'  him  see  that  I'd  be  givin' 
np  all  hope?  Not  much  I  wouldn't,  so  I  tried  to 
'cheer  them  along. 

Half  a  cup  of  water  a  day  was  each  man's  por- 
tion. Half  a  cup,  when  you're  burnin'  up  with 
thirst  and  there 's  water  all  around  you.  Just  what 
you're  longin'  for  and  it's  cool  and  wet  and — salty. 
We  knew  it  would  lead  to  madness  to  drink  that 
stuff,  but  we  all  wondered  in  our  hearts  how  long 
before  we  would  have  to. 

We  found  if  we  sucked  on  buttons  it  helped  a 
little  to  keep  our  dry  throats  moist,  but  our 
tongues  were  swollen  and  our  lips  were  parched. 

There  was  a  Norwegian  aboard.  He  had  been 
torpedoed  before.  He  had  great  ideas  as  to  what 
we  ought  to  do,  but  the  trouble  was  he  couldn't 
speak  English,  and  none  of  us  knew  Norwegian, 
so  we  couldn't  get  him  at  all. 


204        Over  the  Seas  for   Uncle  Sam 

Nine  days — ten  days — eleven  days  .  .  .  the 
water  in  the  barrels  was  down  so  low  that  I  tried 
reducin'  me  drink  to  a  quarter  of  a  cup  a  day.  It 
was  then  I  got  on  to  the  fact  that  Terry  was  actin' 
queer.  The  Norwegian  put  me  w^se.  He  pointed 
to  the  ocean  and  patted  his  mouth,  then  he  jerked 
his  thumb  at  Terry.    I  called  the  boy  up  sharp. 

**Drinldn'  salt  water,  eh'?"  I  snapped. 

He  looked  up.  ''What's  that  to  jouV  His 
eyes  looked  hot  and  feverish,  his  cheeks  were 
flushed. 

''You  cut  it  out,"  I  ordered.  I  almost  choked 
as  I  said  it.    What  if  it  had  been  me  own  kid  ? 

"All  right,"  he  growled. 

But  he  didn't  stop.  At  night  he  scooped  up  cup- 
fuls  of  it — ^he  and  the  other  youngsters,  and  one 
mornin'  we  had  four  ravin',  crazy  boys  on  our 
hands.  They  were  stronger  than  we  were  and 
when  they  tried  to  jump  overboard  we  couldn't 
stop  them.  We  did  our  best  to  save  them,  but  the^^ 
fought  us  with  the  strength  of  fiends.  We  couldn't 
get  them  back  into  the  boat — we  lost  all  four  of 
them.    After  that  I  don't  remember  much. 


'Abandon  Shipr  205 


For  two  weeks  the  water  held  out,  but  we  were 
afloat  four  days  longer.  "We  were  semi-conscious 
by  that  time — nothin'  troubled  us. 

An  English  fishin'  smack  picked  us  up  and  took 
us  to  a  lighthouse  off  the  Irish  coast.  "When  I 
came  to  I  found  meself  bein'  fed  water  a  spoonful 
at  a  time.  Sure,  I  couldn't  take  more  if  I  wanted 
to,  me  tongue  was  that  thick.  I  stayed  there  three 
weeks,  when  they  sent  me  to  Ireland  and  I  lay  in 
hospital  there  for  a  month.  From  the  windows  I 
could  see  the  treetops  and  a  glimpse  of  the 
heavens,  but  do  you  know  it  seemed  to  me  that  the 
sky  in  America  was  a  heap  bluer  and  the  leaves  a 
world  greener  and,  oh,  how  I  wished  for  a  sight 
of  the  wife  and  the  kid ! 

So  they  brought  me  home  and  here  I  am.  I'm 
not  after  sayin'  me  father  was  a  prevaricator — no, 
indeed!  But  I  am  sayin'  that  where  your  folks  is 
there  will  your  heart  be  also,  and,  take  it  from  me, 
the  fellow  who  wrote,  "There's  no  place  like 
home"  knew  what  he  was  talkin'  about!  There 
ain't — ^be  it  County  Cork  or  old  New  York! 


CHIEF  PHAEMACIST'S  MATE 
HALL  SPEAKS: 


Marines  on  the  job — manning  the  anti-aircraft 


guns. 


PRISONERS  OF  WAR 

I  want  to  be  a  doctor,  that 's  why  when  the  war 
came  I  turned  to  the  Hospital  Corps.  I  had  heard 
of  the  advantages  you  derive  from  the  instruction 
and  the  experience  you  get  in  that  branch  of  serv- 
ice, and,  besides,  I  liked  the  crowd  of  men  going 
in  for  it.  One  high  school  had  its  whole  football 
team  in  the  corps.  I  figured  if  it  was  good  enough 
for  a  star  quarter-back  it  was  good  enough  for 
yours  truly. 

I  went  in  as  an  apprentice,  of  course,  but  I  soon 
got  onto  the  fact  that  I  needn't  stay  one  for  the 
rest  of  my  life  if  I  really  wanted  to  get  ahead. 
Naturally  it  meant  work  and  lots  of  it,  but  why 
stay  in  the  "pick-and-shovel"  class  if  you  don't 
have  to  ? 

You  see,  advancement  entailed  certain  respon- 
sibility. To  be  a  pharmacist's  mate  third  class, 
you  are  supposed  to  be  of  immediate  value  to  the 
medical  officer  in  the  sick  bay  of  a  ship.     Once 

209 


210        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 


you  are  a  pharmacist's  mate  second  class,  you  are 
supposed  to  take  charge  of  a  Hospital  Corps  man's 
work  on  board  ship,  and  in  case  the  medical  offi- 
cer is  away  for  the  time  being.  But  to  be  a  phar- 
macist mate  first  class,  it  may  be  up  to  you  to  take 
charge  of  the  medical  department  of  a  ship  to 
which  no  medical  officer  is  attached. 

I  went  to  it.  I  don't  suppose  I  ever  worked  so 
hard  in  my  entire  life.  But  I  didn't  see  the  use 
of  being  in  a  corps  and  staying  down  in  the  coal 
hole  when  there  was  plenty  of  room  on  top. 

Our  duties  could  be  summed  up  briefly:  we 
nursed  the  sick,  and  administered  first  aid  to  acci- 
dent cases.  Some  of  us  were  to  accompany  expe- 
ditionary forces  to  the  front  and  give  first  aid  to 
the  wounded,  beside  assisting  at  surgical  opera- 
tions. That  was  about  all  we  had  to  do,  except  to 
look  after  the  medical  stores  and  property,  and 
know  all  there  was  to  know  about  compounding 
medicine. 

But  one  of  the  things  I  liked  best  about  it  was 
a  certain  fact  that  was  brought  out  strongly — ^we 
were  in  the  service  to  save  lives.    Get  that  into 


Prisoners  of  War  211 

your  head !  It  was  drumined  into  ours.  We  began 
to  think  we  were  privileged  people  because,  while 
we  were  in  the  war,  it  just  happened  to  be  our  job 
to  save  life  instead  of  taking  it. 

I  don't  mean  by  that  that  we  wouldn't  relish  a 
chance  to  get  a  crack  at  Fritz,  the  killer  of  women 
and  babes,  but  our  official  task  happened  to  be 
helping  poor  chaps  back  who  had  been  laid  low  by 
a  piece  of  Hun  steel. 

Once  I  had  got  my  rating,  I  was  told  to  report 
for  duty  on  a  destroyer.  That  just  about  suited 
me.  I  had  been  scared  to  death  that  they'd  hold 
me  at  a  base  hospital,  with  no  chance  to  cross  the 
briny  deep,  and  I  went  in  search  of  my  chum  to 
say  good-bye. 

He  was  a  quiet  sort  of  chap,  with  a  pair  of  horn- 
rimmed glasses  that  won  for  him  the  name  of 
* '  Specs. ' '  He  was  as  funny  oif  duty  as  a  goat,  but 
the  best  corps  man  I  have  ever  seen  on  his  job. 
We  were  always  together.  We  had  plugged 
through  the  course  together,  and  worried  about 
the  exams  together,  and  we  had  hoped  that  fate 
would  be  kind  to  us  and  send  us  across  on  the  same 


212        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

ship.  But  nothing  doing.  I  parted  from  him  with 
all  kinds  of  promises  to  write  and  went  aboard  the 
destroyer. 

The  first  man  I  saw  on  deck  was  ''Specs,"  dou- 
ble glasses  and  all.  I  couldn't  believe  my  eyes.  I 
stared  at  him  like  a  fool.  And  by  cracky,  it  turned 
out  to  be  his  brother,  who  was  coxswain  and 
enough  like  ''Specs"  to  pass  for  himself.  Well, 
needless  to  say,  Trace  and  I  hit  it  up  from  the 
word  go. 

We  had  a  few  accident  cases  which  kept  me 
fairly  busy  going  over,  but  as  we  came  nearer  the 
Zone  I  got  the  fever  that  runs  in  every  man's  blood 
to  catch  a  sight  of  Fritz.  There  were  some  fellows 
aboard  who  had  crossed  a  half-dozen  times  with- 
out a  squint  at  a  submarine  and  with  nothing 
fiercer  to  take  a  shot  at  than  a  sleepy  whale. 

We  were  escorting  a  merchant  ship  flotilla — a 
whole  flock  of  us.  It  had  been  an  exciting  day  all 
right !  Early  that  morning,  while  it  was  yet  dark, 
we  had  made  out  what  seemed  to  us  to  be  a  ring  of 
little  lights  upon  the  water.  Take  it  from  me,  we 
don't  rush  in  on  anything  like  that.    It  may  be  a 


Prisoners  of  War  213 

German's  coy  trap  for  blowing  yon  sky  high.  But 
we  sure  were  curious  and  we  circled  the  lights 
swiftly,  by  no  means  certain  but  that  every  minute 
would  be  our  last.  As  we  approached  them  we 
made  them  out.  They  were  lifeboats  full  of  men 
signaling  wildly  for  help. 

We  flew  to  their  rescue  and  picked  them  up. 
The  lot  of  them  were  half  frozen  and  barely  able 
to  tell  us  the  old  story  of  Fritz 's  stab  in  the  dark. 
I  had  some  work  to  do  then!  There  were  frost- 
bitten hands  and  feet  and  ears  to  care  for,  and 
chills  and  fever  to  ward  off.  I  worked  over  them 
for  hours.  We  found  out  that  they  were  the  crew 
of  a  British  cargo  ship  and  as  soon  as  it  was 
light  we  landed  them  at  a  nearby  port  and  set  out 
to  sea  again. 

It  was  a  wild  morning.  The  wind  had  risen  to 
what  was  fast  becoming  a  gale.  Think  of  a  gale 
at  sea  in  November !  Icy  waves  sweep  your  deck 
and  toss  your  ship  about  like  a  ball  in  the 
water.  No  chance  to  cook  a  mouthful,  as  noth- 
ing w^ould  stay  on  the  range  long  enough — hard- 
tack for  all  hands  and  lucky  to  get  it— stand  by  as 
best  you  can  in  case  of  a  lurking  Fritz. 


214        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

— ^'■~^^^^^"^^^'^^^™^"™"^^^"^^^^^'^'™~^^™™™*™— ^^■■™"^~~*™^^— ^— — ^ 

The  gale  grew  worse.  I  had  never  seen  such  an 
ugly  storm.  The  sky  was  almost  black  and  the  sea 
was  running  so  high  that  it  seemed  as  though 
green  mountains  were  crashing  down  upon  us  as 
the  combers  fell.  I  don't  know  how  we  happened 
to  weather  it,  but  once  the  wind  died  down,  we 
saw  some  distance  away  a  British  destroyer,  bob- 
bing about  aimlessly  on  that  wild  sea.  Her  decks 
had  been  swept  clean,  her  propellers  smashed,  her 
wireless  gone.  She  was  just  a  plaything  of  the 
waves.  We  went  to  her  rescue.  AVhat  was  left 
of  her  crew  was  certainly  glad  to  see  us.  They 
had  given  up  all  hope  of  help  coming  before  Fritz 
saw  her. 

We  towed  her  to  her  base  and  on  the  way  we 
caught  a  signal  warning  us  to  keep  an  extra  sharp 
lookout  as  a  cruiser  had  been  sent  to  bottom  by 
a  submarine  not  five  miles  away.  We  left  the  dis- 
abled destroyer  at  her  base  and  set  out  for  our 
own;  it  was  about  four  in  the  afternoon.  The 
storm  had  died  down,  but  the  waves  still  looked 
wicked  and  the  sky  was  a  dirty  gray. 

Fritz  was  laying  for  us.    I  suppose  he  had  seen 


Prisoners  of  War  215 

us  taking  the  destroyer  in  anr'  he  figured  we'd 
start  for  home.  I  guess  he  decided  to  make  a  good 
day's  work  of  it  by  sinking  us  before  he  sat  down 
to  dinner.  Trace  was  lookout,  and  he  sighted  a 
small  periscope  some  distance  off  the  port  bow. 
It  extended  about  a  foot  out  of  water  and  was 
visible  only  a  few  seconds,  but  say,  did  he  let  out 
a  yell?  .  .  . 

We  charged  them.  Three  seconds  later  we 
dropped  a  depth  charge.  That's  quick  work 
for  you.  Hot  on  her  trail  we  were  and  no  mis- 
take !  Another  destroyer  speeded  up  too  and  fol- 
lowed the  spray  that  told  which  way  Fritz  was 
heading.  Oh,  he  was  still  determined  to  get  one 
of  us,  for  he  was  making  straight  for  a  merchant 
vessel  in  the  convoy.  We  dropped  another 
charge. 
_J)  At  that  instant  the  submarine's  conning  tower 

appeared  on  the  surface  between  ourselves  and 
the  convoy.  Did  we  pump  hell  into  her  from  our 
stern  gun?    We  did! 

Up  came  the  bow  of  the  submarine.    She  was 
down  by  the  stern,  but  righted  herself  and  seemed 


216        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

to  increase  her  speed.  We  were  after  her  like  a 
streak.  We  fired  from  our  bow  gun.  That  settled 
Fritz.  For,  after  the  third  shot,  the  crew  of  the 
submarine  came  on  deck  and  surrendered,  by 
God!  to  theU.  S.  N.! 

The  whole  thing  took  exactly  ten  minutes,  but 
it  seemed  a  lifetime  to  me! 

AVe  approached  the  submarine  to  pick  up  the 
prisoners,  while  the  other  destroyers  kept  their 
batteries  trained  on  the  boat.  We  weren/t  taking 
any  chances,  for  there's  no  telling  if  Fritz,  with 
his  hands  up,  won't  pull  a  trigger  with  his  toes. 

We  got  a  line  to  the  submarine,  but  in  a  few 
moments  she  sank.  The  line  was  let  go  and  the 
U-boat's  crew  jumped  into  the  water  and  swam 
to  our  ship.  All  of  them  wore  life  preservers,  but 
some  of  the  men  were  exhausted  when  they  reached 
the  side  of  our  ship,  and,  as  the  submarine  sank, 
several  of  them  were  caught  by  the  radio  aerial 
and  carried  below  the  surface  before  they  could 
disentangle  themselves. 

Ten  of  the  men  were  so  weak  that  we  had  to 
pass  lines  under  their  arms  to  haul  them  aboard, 


Prisoners  of  War 217 

and  one  chap  was  in  such  a  condition  that  he  could 
not  hold  a  line  throwTi  him.  I  saw  him  reach  for  it 
and  let  it  slip  through  his  fingers.  I  couldn't  stand 
it.  I  climbed  the  rail,  and,  before  they  could  stop 
me,  I  dived  in.  Someone  dived  after  me.  It  was 
Trace.  He  felt  like  I  did  seeing  a  man  drown  be- 
fore your  eyes.  More  credit  was  due  him,  though, 
by  a  long  sight,  than  me,  for  his  job  was  coxswain 
while  I  was  in  a  corps  that  was  supposed  to  save 
life.  Fine  corps  man  I'd  have  made  if,  at  my  first 
chance  to  rescue  a  fellow,  I'd  stood  by  and  let  him 
go  down ! 

"We  were  hauled  aboard  with  the  German  be- 
tween us.  I've  never  been  so  cold  in  my  life.  I 
bet  you  could  hear  my  teeth  chatter  clear  across 
the  Atlantic.  As  for  the  German,  he  died  in  a  few 
minutes'  time.  The  reason  is  plain.  I  wasn't  able 
to  give  him  first  aid,  being  all  in  myself.  I  know 
I  could  have  pulled  him  through.  Those  other 
chaps  were  no  good  at  resuscitation. 

We  had  four  German  officers  and  a  crew  of 
thirty-five  prisoners.  The  first  lot  taken  in  this 
war  by  an  American  destroyer. 


218        Over  tlic  Seas  for   Uncle  Sam 

We  fed  up  Fritz  on  hot  coffee  and  sandwiches. 
Our  method  of  handling  prisoners  is  a  bit  different 
from  the  Huns.  They  were  a  pretty  seedy  lot,  hut 
once  we  had  shelled  out  warm  coats  and  heavy 
clothing  to  them,  they  perked  up  a  bit  and  before 
long  the  crew  began  to  sing.  I  listened  to  them, 
but  somehow  it  made  me  sick.  I  had  heard  how 
they  treat  our  men  when  they  catch  them — they 
don't  get  much  chance  to  sing! 

The  German  officers  told  us  that  the  first  depth 
charge  had  wrecked  Fritz 's  machinery  and  caused 
him  to  sink  to  a  considerable  depth.  If  we  did  say 
so  ourselves,  we  were  pretty  good  shots ! 

There  wasn't  a  mark  on  the  submarine  that 
gave  her  away,  but  the  lifebelts  did.  We  got  her 
number.  We  proceeded  to  port  and  there  turned 
our  prisoners  over  under  guard.  We  felt  pretty 
cocky  over  it.  Or  rather  the  crew  did  who  had 
had  a  real  hand  in  capturing  the  Germans.  I 
hadn't  done  anything.  Why  they  mentioned  me  in 
the  reports  I  don't  know.  I  guess  they  didn't  re- 
member about  a  corps-man's  job  including  the  sav- 
ing of  life — I  did,  though.  I  told  you  I  had  studied 
hard ! 


FIREMAN  SEYMOUR 
SPEAKS : 


FEITZ  GETS  TAGGED 

I  BELONG  to  the  Black  Gang.  You  don't  hear 
much  about  us  because  our  work  keeps  us  below 
deck,  and  it's  good  hard  work  when  you're  mak- 
ing twenty  knots — ^but  I  like  it.  I  wouldn  't  change 
places  with  any  gun's  crew  on  earth,  although  they 
have  more  of  a  chance  for  their  life  if  trouble 
comes.  We  have  duties  to  perform  right  in  our 
quarters  in  case  a  ship  is  struck  that  keeps  us  close 
to  the  engines — there's  always  danger  there — es- 
pecially aboard  a  coal-burning  destroyer — and 
that's  what  I  shipped  on. 

There  wasn't  any  keeping  me  out  of  the  navy. 
We  have  four  honorable  discharges  hung  up  in 
our  house.  I  used  to  show  them  to  my  kid.  He 's 
five,  but  awful  smart.  He  knows  all  about  them. 
''That's  from  the  War  of  1776,"  he'll  say, 
pointing  to  the  first  one. 

''And  that's  from  the  Civil  War,  my  great 
Grandpa  fought  in  that." 


221 


222        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 


The  third  one  is  for  the  Spanish- American. 

**My  grandpa  fought  in  that  one,"  he  tells  yon. 

And  pretty  soon,  when  this  scrap  is  over  there  '11 
be  a  fourth  one  hanging  alongside  of  the  others 
and  Bill  can  look  at  it  and  say,  **My  pop  got  that 
one  in  the  biggest  war  of  all." 

I  only  wish  the  youngster  was  old  enough  to  en- 
list himself.  We're  a  fighting  family.  I  joined 
the  navy  in  1915.  I  was  on  a  battleship  then,  but 
when  war  broke  they  transferred  me  to  a  de- 
stroyer. We  didn't  go  out  until  the  cold  weather 
had  set  in.  All  of  us  were  given  Arctic  outfits  and 
it 's  lucky  we  were — we  needed  them,  believe  me ! 
You  are  mighty  grateful  for  the  heavy  woollen 
pants  and  the  jumper  with  a  hood  that  covers  your 
ears. 

Destroyer  duty  is  the  most  exciting  of  all,  for, 
while  merchant  crafts  go  out  of  their  way  to  avoid 
submarines,  our  game  is  to  go  out  of  our  way  to 
hunt  them.  It  was  like  a  game  of  hide  and  seek, 
with  a  destroyer  '*It,"  trying  to  tag  Fritz  if  he'd 
only  give  us  half  a  chance. 

One  of  Fritz's  pet  stunts  was  to  send  us  an 


Fritz  Gets  Tagged 223 

S.O.S.,  giving  us  the  exact  location  at  sea  of  a 
vessel  in  trouble — oh,  he  was  awful  careful  to  see 
that  you  got  it  right,  all  you  needed  to  do  was  to 
steam  up  to  that  spot  and  be  blown  clear  out  of 
creation. 

Of  course,  all  the  calls  for  help  weren't  false. 
One  day  we  came  close  enough  to  see  a  cargo  ship 
in  flames,  and  her  crew  being  ordered  over  her  side 
to  open  boats.  "Burn  the  cargo  and  sink  the 
ship,"  was  Fritz's  creed  and  if  you  think  that  be- 
ing set  afloat  in  a  life-boat  in  December  is  an  expe- 
rience you'll  forget  in  a  hurry,  you're  wrong! 

By  the  time  we  reached  the  survivors,  half  of 
them  were  dead — frozen  where  they  sat,  their 
bodies  covered  with  ice. 

We  were  on  duty  every  minute  of  the  day  and 
night.  I  don't  think  any  of  the  crew  slept  soundly 
for  the  seven  months  that  we  stayed  at  sea  with- 
out ever  touching  shore.  Think  of  it,  seven 
months  on  a  ship  that's  never  still,  zig-zagging, 
doubling  on  its  own  course — charging  any  floating 
objects  in  hopes  of  downing  a  Fritz. 

My,  but  the  troopships  were  glad  to  see  us  when 


224        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 


we  went  out  to  meet  them.  We  'd  shoot  up  along- 
side of  them,  or  cut  clean  across  their  bow,  playing 
in  front  of  them  like  a  porpoise,  as  we  asked  them 
what  sort  of  a  trip  they  had  had  across  and  how 
things  were  going  back  home.  We'd  come  so 
close  to  the  convoy  at  times  that  they  could  almost 
reach  out  and  touch  us,  then  we  'd  dart  away  at  the 
drop  of  a  hat. 

As  Christmas  came  near,  we  hoped  to  touch 
port.  We  had  been  promised  a  Christmas  ashore, 
but  it  seemed  we  had  sudden  orders  to  go  out  and 
pick  up  a  convoy,  so  we  headed  for  the  open  sea 
again. 

Christmas  Eve  was  biting  cold.  I  went  up  for 
air  and  I  was  glad  to  hurry  back  to  the  engine 
room  again.  It  was  at  least  warm  do^m  there. 
The  men  who  stood  watch  on  deck  were  muffled  to 
the  eyes.  I  thought  of  my  wife  and  the  kid.  I 
wondered  if  he  was  hanging  up  his  little  stocking 
and  saying  a  prayer  for  his  dad  who  was  at  sea. 
I  hadn't  heard  a  word  from  them,  of  course,  since 
I  had  left  home.  But  on  that  particular  night  they 
seemed  very  close  to  me.    I  could  almost  see  our 


W»Wi^"iyi:^:^"!^m'lifiJ^M-m>-<J.'W!yK« 


E-E-E-YAH-YI 

GO  OVER  WI 
USMARIN^iS 


Fritz  Gets  Tagged 225 

little  sitting  room,  with  a  holly  wreath  in  the  win- 
dow. I  remembered  just  the  corner  where  we  al- 
ways put  up  the  Christmas  tree  and  I  thought  of 
the  fun  we  had  trimming  it  and  trying  not  to  make 
a  breath  of  noise  to  wake  the  kid.  All 
this  while  I  realized  dimly  that  the  boat  was 
pitching  harder  than  ever  and  my  mate  broke 
in  with : 

''We're  in  for  a  gale  to  celebrate  Christmas 
proper." 

We  were,  all  right !  They  say  it  was  the  worst 
storm  that  had  been  seen  off  that  coast  in  many  a 
year.  It  was  the  highest  sea  I've  ever  been  on. 
You  could  scarcely  keep  your  feet,  and  as  for  food 
— our  Christmas  dinner  consisted  of  hard  tack  and 
lucky  we  were  to  get  that.  You  couldn't  keep  a 
thing  on  the  ranges  except  the  stationary  kettles. 
They  managed  to  make  something  that  was  sup- 
posed to  be  coffee  in  those  and  for  twenty-two 
hours  that  was  our  chow. 

There  were  moments  through  that  long  night 
when  I  thought  we'd  turn  clean  over.  We  never 
expected  the   rudder  to  hold  with  those  giant 


226        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sain 

waves  breaking  over  the  deck  and  turning  every- 
thing to  ice. 

All  the  submarines  afloat  didn't  give  me  the 
feeling  of  nearness  to  death  that  that  storm  had. 
I  certainly  was  glad  when  the  sea  quieted  down 
and  the  sun  struggled  through  the  clouds 
again. 

Up  to  the  first  of  the  year  we  had  not  had  a 
chance  to  get  a  shot  at  Fritz.  He  had  been  a  bit 
too  wily  for  us,  getting  in  his  dirty  work  before 
we  arrived  on  the  spot,  leaving  a  trail  of  burning 
or  sinking  ships  but  no  sign  of  himself.  But  we 
got  our  revenge.  It  was  in  January.  We  had  met 
a  string  of  troop  and  cargo  ships  from  the  States, 
which  we  were  escorting  to  port.  We  were  so 
near  the  coast  that  I  guess  most  of  the  boys  aboard 
were  getting  their  things  together  preparatory  to 
landing. 

It  was  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  and  I  don't 
suppose  any  of  us  really  dreamed  of  a  submarine 
turning  up  so*  close  to  shore,  when  suddenly  the 
shrill  whistle  from  a  transport  made  the  air 
around  it  blue  with  its  noise !   A  second  later  came 


Fritz  Gets  Tagged 227 

the  roar  of  guns  and  I  knew  sure  enough  that  some 
tin  fish  had  welcomed  us ! 

I  stood  by  in  the  engine  room,  which  was  my 
place  in  time  of  danger,  listening  with  all  my  ears 
to  the  boom  of  our  own  guns.  Oh,  we  were  after 
Fritz  all  right ! 

The  rumor  drifted  in  to  us  that  there  were  ten 
periscopes  to  be  seen,  but  soon  it  came  down  to 
three.  The  guns  from  all  the  ships  thundered — 
it  was  as  if  a  battlefield  were  transported  to  the 
Atlantic  Ocean. 

The  roar  of  guns  deafened  you,  but  you  cer- 
tainly got  a  thrill  you  never  forgot.  We  worked 
like  fiends.  We  knew  they  needed  speed  as  never 
before.    We  were  like  cats  after  a  mouse. 

Someone  sent  up  a  shout  and  word  came  that 
oil  had  begun  to  show  on  the  water — that  meant 
one  less  submarine  afloat!  Again  the  roar  of 
guns — again  the  shout!    Two  Fritzes  sunk,  .  .   ! 

In  the  midst  of  the  firing  came  a  strange  new 
sound — a  buzzing  overhead.  French  airships  to 
the  rescue!  They  were  not  more  than  two  hun- 
dred yards  above  us,  dropping  bombs  as  they 


228        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

flew.  I  listened  for  the  sound  of  cheering — it 
came!  A  third  Fritz  sunk.  In  port  the  sinking 
was  officially  verified — three  German  submarines 
destroyed,  read  the  record.    Not  bad,  eh? 

I  don't  believe  a  gun  on  any  of  the  transports 
or  destroyers  was  cold  for  fully  two  hours.  When 
it  was  over,  I  went  on  deck  for  a  breath  of  air. 
I  was  sweating  like  a  horse  and  shaking  all  over 
from  the  strain.  The  instant  I  stepped  on  deck, 
Fritz  got  a  shot  at  us,  splintering  our  deck  and 
taking  one  of  my  fingers  along  as  a  souvenir. 

Now  I  ask  you,  wasn't  that  rum  luck?  If  I'd 
only  stayed  below  where  I  belonged,  I'd  still  be 
plus  a  finger.  The  ship's  doctor  finished  up  the 
job,  but  I  couldn't  use  that  hand,  and,  believe  me, 
it  made  me  sore  as  anything.  I  knew  I'd  miss  all 
the  sport  going  by  having  to  be  sent  home.  I  tried 
to  argue  with  him.  But  he  wouldn't  listen  to  me 
— ^home  I  must  go.  There  wasn't  any  two  ways 
about  it — orders  is  orders. 

I  traveled  back  on  a  transport.  I  was  all  right. 
My  hand  was  healing  fine.  I  wanted  to  stand 
watch  on  the  way  across,  but  they  wouldn't  let 


Fritz  Gets  Tagged  229 

me.  Treated  me  like  a  blooming  invalid  and  gave 
me  a  month's  liberty  to  get  well.  Well!  I  was 
well  ten  minutes  after  it  happened. 

No,  I  didn't  tell  my  wife  how  I  lost  it.  I  said 
I'd  been  mixed  up  in  an  accident  in  the  engine 
room.  That  was  pretty  near  the  truth.  You  can 
slip  so  easily  w^ith  the  ship  pitching  and  rearing 
that  it  isn't  hard  to  lose  an  arm  that  way.  Oh, 
if  I  was  to  tell  her  that  a  sub  carried  part  of  my 
hand  away,  she'd  worry  to  death  about  having 
me  go  to  sea  again.  I'll  break  it  to  her  after  the 
war.  Just  now  there's  one  thing  on  my  mind — 
just  one — to  get  back  somehow  in  the  Black  Gang. 
I  can  handle  a  shovel — my  arm's  a  bit  stiff  yet,  but 
I'm  all  muscle.  Believe  me,  they  aren't  going  to 
shelve  me  just  because  one  finger's  gone !  Not  by 
a  long  sight ! 

I'm  not  going  to  miss  one  minute  of  this  scrap 
if  1  can  help  it.  My  kid's  going  to  be  proud  of 
my  record  before  I  get  through — wait  and  see  if 
he  isn't! 


WAERANT  CARPENTER  HOYT 
SPEAKS : 


THE  FLOWER  OF  FRANCE 

Ever  see  those  red  poppies  that  grow  by  the 
roadside  in  France  ?  They  always  make  me  think 
of  Angele.  They  are  so  graceful  and  vivid  and 
gay.  It  almost  seems  as  though  they  enjoyed 
watching  the  soldiers  march  past,  they  spring  up 
so  close  to  the  road.  All  the  war  that  has  swept 
through  the  land  has  failed  to  kill  the  crop. 
You  will  find  innumerable  scarlet  patches  of 
them  nodding  their  brave  little  heads  to  the 
boys  as  they  tramp  by — cheering  them  on — for  all 
the  world  like  France's  daughters — ^bless  them! 

I  was  one  of  the  first  Americans  to  go  across 
after  our  declaration  of  war  on  Germany.  Those 
were  the  days  when  the  German  propagandists  in 
this  country  knew  more  about  the  movements  of 
our  fleet  than  we  did  ourselves. 

They  called  upon  us  formally  a  way  off  the 
French  coast,  with  two  torpedoes.  But  they  were 
bad  shots,  so  their  visiting  cards  never  arrived 

233 


234        Over  the  Seas  for   Uncle  Sam 

and  we  continued  our  course  without  any  further 
opportunity  of  making  their  acquaintance. 

As  we  neared  the  coast  the  water  became  clotted 
up  with  wreckage — boxes  and  barrels  and  floating 
planks — yes — and  bodies,  too.  IVe  never  seen  a 
sight  to  equal  it  and  I  have  crossed  eight  times  all 
told.  But  in  the  beginning  of  the  war  Fritz  was 
pretty  active.  Never  a  day  passed  that  we  re- 
ceived less  than  seven  or  eight  S.O.S.  calls.  Oh, 
Fritz  was  having  it  all  his  own  way  then.  "We  've 
changed  all  that — rather ! 

I'll  never  forget  the  little  French  port  where 
we  dropped  anchor.  Nothing  I  can  ever  see  in  the 
years  to  come — ^with  the  exception  of  the  Allied 
flags  floating  over  the  Kaiser's  palace  in  Berlin — 
will  equal  the  thrill  I  got  from  watching  the  first 
khaki-clad  Yankees  marching  up  that  narrow 
street  to  the  tune  of  Yankee  Doodle ! 

I  kept  wondering  who  the  dickens  I  was,  to  be 
privileged  to  witness  such  a  history-making  sight ! 

The  townsfolk  mobbed  us.  They  cheered  us  and 
hugged  us  and  called  down  blessings  on  our  heads. 
Someone  took  pity  on  us  and  showed  us  the  way 


The  Flower  of  France 235 

to  an  inn — a  rambling  white  shallet  with  a  big 
American  flag  hnng  from  its  windows.  At  the 
gate,  the  innkeeper  and  his  plump  little  wife  were 
awaiting  us  with  open  arms.  They  asked  us  if  we 
would  consent  to  eat  ''poullet.'^  Consent!  We 
would  have  devoured  birch  bark  with  a  relish  had 
it  been  cooked  the  way  Madame  Mousequet  could 
cook ! 

I  have  never  tasted  such  chicken  or  such  pota- 
toes. And  while  we  ate  and  drank  the  little  lady 
fluttered  about  us,  hoping,  in  voluble  French,  that 
everything  suited  ''the  dear  officers  from  the 
United  States.'* 

They  would  not  take  a  cent  of  pay  for  the  feast. 
It  was,  they  assured  us,  '^une  grande  Jionneur." 
Over  and  over  they  insisted  that  we  must  not  think 
of  spoiling  their  pleasure  by  having  money  pass 
between  us.  What  can  you  do  with  people  like 
that? 

That  night  we  went  to  a  little  cinema  theater. 
When  the  lights  were  turned  up  and  the  audience 
caught  sight  of  us,  they  rose  in  a  body  and  cheered 
us.    In  one  of  the  boxes  were  a  group  of  French 


236        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

officers  and  their  wives.    One  of  the  officers  hur- 
ried around  to  where  we  were  sitting. 

**You  must  place  yourself  where  all  the  people 
may  see  you,"  he  insisted.  There  was  no  refusing 
him.  He  was  like  a  child,  bubbling  over  with  joy 
at  having  us  there. 

''Come,"  he  pleaded,  *'let  me  seat  you  so  that 
all  may  see. ' ' 

We  followed  meekly.  The  ladies  in  the  box 
were  awaiting  us  eagerly.  They  welcomed  us  with 
outstretched  hands.  And  as  I  looked  at  those 
people  who  had  been  through  two  grilling  years 
of  war,  I  thanked  God  I  came  from  a  country  that 
had  taken  up  arms  against  a  beast  who  was  trying 
to  crush  the  red  poppies  beneath  his  heel. 

It  was  hard  to  get  leave  to  go  up  to  Paris.  Sail- 
ings were  uncertain  and  special  permission  had  to 
be  obtained,  but  I  made  up  my  mind  I'd  go.  Gen- 
eral Pershing  was  to  be  there  for  the  Fourth  of 
July  celebration  at  the  tomb  of  Lafayette.  I  knew 
that  would  be  a  never-to-be-forgotten  sight. 

I  was  right.  It  was  a  glorious  morning  and  the 
thrill  of  the  day  was  in  the  air— crowds  every- 


The  Flower  of  France 237 

where — sky  blue  and  navy  blue  uniforms  rubbing 
shoulders  with  the  khaki  of  our  own  boys. 
Women,  many  of  them  in  black,  hurrying — hurry- 
ing toward  the  spot  where  the  great  Commander- 
in-Chief  of  the  American  Expeditionary  Forces 
could  be  seen. 

* '  Pershing !  * '  Everywhere  you  heard  his  name 
and  an  under-current  of  eager  whispers  as  to 
whether  there  would  be  a  chance  to  see  him  or  not. 

The  Fourth  of  July !  Paris !  And  our  General, 
the  idol  of  the  hour !  I  tell  you  it  thrilled  me  clear 
down  to  my  heels ! 

We  navy  men  were  let  through  the  crowd  and 
we  were  able  to  view  the  ceremony  at  close  range. 
I  have  never  heard  such  cheering  in  my  life !  It 
was  Paris'  first  opportunity  to  hear  our  General 
speak,  and  he  spoke  so  simply — so  quietly — in  the 
face  of  that  great  ovation  that  there  was  not  one 
among  us  who  could  doubt  his  ability  to  lead  our 
men  as  they  had  never  before  been  led. 

There  were  to  be  fireworks  that  night  in  honor 
of  our  presence — concerts  and  speeches  and  danc- 
ing.   Oh,  France  was  showing  us  that  she  was  glad 


238        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

we  had  come,  but  how  glad  we  were  to  be  there  she 
can  never  guess ! 

I  drifted  idly  with  the  crowd.  I  wandered  doT.Ti 
to  the  big  station — the  Oare  de  Lyons.  What  took 
me  there  I  scarcely  know.  Fate,  I  suppose,  be- 
cause there  were  a  thousand  and  one  places  I 
might  have  gone  instead. 

The  station  was  full  of  a  bustling  mob — uni- 
forms— ^uniforms  everywhere.  A  train  load  of 
soldiers  had  just  arrived  on  leave  from  the  Front. 
That  was  a  sight  for  you,  as  their  eager  eyes 
lighted  on  some  loved  one's  face!  I  tell  you,  it 
kept  your  heart  jumping  in  your  throat  to  see 
them.  Some  of  them  were  so  white  and  worn  and 
haggard.  Most  of  them  bronzed  and  wiry,  a  bit 
grimy  from  the  long  train  trip,  with  uniforms 
faded  and  sometimes  torn.  But  weariness  and 
dirt  and  tears  could  not  hide  the  spirit  that  shone 
in  their  eyes  as  they  clasped  their  wife  and  little 
ones  to  them. 

A  young  artillery  officer  came  toward  me.  He 
was  a  handsome  man  with  a  bit  of  a  swagger  in 
spite  of  his  limp.    I  saw  his  eyes  roving  the  crowd 


The  Flower  of  France 239 

restlessly  iny  search  of  someone.  Suddenly  he 
caught  sight  of  me. 

"Ah!  An  American!  What  joy!  Vive 
L'Amerique!"  he  shouted, 

I  thanked  him.  I  told  him  my  name  and  he  told 
me  his.  It  was  Louis  du  Frere,  and  he  lived  at 
Faubourg  St.  Germain.  He  was  just  back  from 
the  trenches  on  a  precious  leave  of  seven  days. 
Wounded?  He  shrugged.  But,  yes,  fifteen  times 
so  far,  and  what  of  that  ? 

I  stared  at  him.  Wounded  fifteen  times  and  yet 
eager  to  go  back!  Spirit  of  France,  you  are  in- 
domitable ! 

He  excused  himself  as  he  scanned  the  crowd. 
His  sister  was  to  meet  him.  She  was  there  some- 
where. She  never  failed  him.  Ah,  yes !  He  had 
found  her.  .  .  . 

I  turned  to  see  a  little  black-clad  figure  rush 
into  his  arms  and  cling  to  him  as  though  she  could 
never  let  him  go.    He  spoke  to  her  gently. 

**Angele,"  he  said,  *'this  gentleman  is  a  great 
officer  of  the  American  navy.  Tell  him  how  glad 
you  are  to  welcome  him  to  France." 


240        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

At  that  she  whirled  and  since  then  I  have  never 
been  able  to  see  a  red  poppy  without  thinking  of 
her.  I  don't  remember  what  I  said  in  my  very 
limited  French,  but  her  brother  broke  in  to  explain 
that  she  had  lost  her  young  husband  at  the  battle 
of  the  Marne  and  he  ended  up  by  announcing  to 
her  that  I  was  going  to  spend  the  rest  of  my  lib- 
erty as  their  guest. 

I  tried  to  protest,  to  insist  that  I  had  no  inten- 
tion of  thrusting  my  presence  upon  them  for 
eleven  days.  But  he  took  my  refusal  with  the  air 
of  a  hurt  child  and  when  Angele  joined  her  pleas 
with  his,  I  succumbed.  I  let  du  Frere  hail  a  cab 
and  we  all  piled  in.  I  gathered  up  my  few  pos- 
sessions at  the  hotel  and  climbed  aboard  again, 
and  we  rumbled  through  the  streets  of  Paris  to- 
ward St.  Germain,  Angele  clinging  to  her  broth- 
er's arm  and  listening  with  a  wrapt  look  on  her 
face  to  his  gay  comments  on  trench  life. 

I  thought  I  must  be  dreaming  it  all.  It  was  so 
lilie  the  scene  of  a  play — Paris  slipping  away  from 
us,  as  we  rattled  across  a  long  bridge,  the  open 
country  becoming  greener  and  leafier  every  in- 


The  Flower  of  France 241 

stant — the  gay  voice  of  the  young  officer,  the  eager 
questions  of  our  little  old  driver,  and  the  poppy- 
like girl,  with  lips  parted,  drinking  in  breathlessly 
every  word  her  brother  uttered. 

We  stopped  before  a  tiny  house,  shaded  by  tall 
trees.  I  saw,  gathered  before  it,  a  little  knot  of 
people,  shading  their  eyes  for  a  glimpse  of  the 
returning  hero. 

They  pounced  upon  him,  men,  women,  and 
children — all  his  neighbors,  who  had  awaited  his 
home  coming  for  heaven  only  Iniows  how  many 
hours.  They  shouted  their  welcome  to  him,  each 
of  them  clasping  him  for  a  minute  and  claiming 
his  full  attention. 

Angele  stood  looking  on,  the  tears  rolling  down 
her  cheeks,  even  while  her  lips  smiled. 

**They  love  him  so,"  she  said  softly,  as  though 
to  explain  it,  **he  is  so  brave !" 

I  think  he  was,  to  face  that  mob. 

They  followed  him  in.  The  table  was  spread 
with  every  sort  of  delicacy.  Each  one  of  them 
had  contributed  something  choice — some  dish  of 
which  he  was  especially  fond.    He  exclaimed  over 


242        Over  tlie  Seas  for  Uncle  Sain 

it  all  rapturously.  He  left  nothing  to  be  desired  in 
his  eager  enthusiasm. 

They  gave  him  no  time  to  rest.  They  poured  a 
torrent  of  questions  upon  him.  Questions  about 
their  own  brothers  and  husbands  and  lovers — 
questions  concerning  warfare — trench  life — ^bat- 
tles in  which  he  had  fought.  And  he  told  them  all 
he  knew  until  at  length  Angele  scolded  them 
tenderly  and  bore  him  oif.  Then  it  was  that  they 
turned  upon  me  as  the  second  best  object  of  in- 
terest. 

Never  in  a  lifetime  could  I  answer  all  that  they 
asked  of  me.  "What  did  our  country  hope  to  do? 
How  many  men  could  she  send  across  at 
once?  How  long  did  she  think  the  war  would 
last? 

I  tell  you  I  was  glad  to  see  Angele  and  Louis 
reappear  and  to  f oUow  them  to  the  feast.  I  was 
placed  at  Angele 's  right  hand — the  guest  of  honor 
— I  sat  doAvn  with  a  sigh  of  relief  as  I  saw  the 
tempting  spread.  Sat  down!  We  were  never 
down  more  than  an  instant  before  someone  would 
leap  up  and  propose  a  standing  toast  to  Pershing 


The  Flower  of  France 243 

and  to  Joffre,  to  President  Wilson  and  to  Presi- 
dent Poincaire,  to  myself,  to  my  navy,  to  my  coun- 
try! 

And  the  Marseillaise !  How  they  did  sing  that ! 
three  and  four  times,  shouting  the  chorus  until 
the  rafters  shook! 

Then  Louis  pounded  on  the  table  for  order. 

**The  American  officer  will  now  sing  his  Na- 
tional Anthem,"  he  announced. 

There  was  instant  silence,  then  encouraging  ap- 
plause, then  silence. 

**But  yes,  you  will  sing  it,''  urged  Angele,  see- 
ing my  panic. 

Now,  in  the  first  place,  I  cannot  carry  a  tune 
and  in  the  second  place  I  knew  just  one  verse  of 
the  ''Star  Spangled  Banner"— and  I  was  not  over 
sure  of  that  one! 

I  have  never  felt  a  shame  equal  to  mine  as  T 
struggled  desperately  through  the  first  verse  of 
my  country's  song!  They  applauded  madly.  I 
might  have  been  Caruso  to  judge  from  the  racket 
they  made. 

But  Louis  was  not  satisfied. 


244        Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

''Permit  me  also  to  sing  it  for  you,"  he  said, 
and  sing  it  he  did — all  three  verses  of  it, — ^\ith  a 
ring  to  his  voice  that  thrilled  me  and  held  me 
spelllDound.  I  asked  him  where  he  had  learned  it. 
It  seems,  he  modestly  explained,  an  American  am- 
bulance driver  had  employed  his  time  in  the 
trenches  teaching  it  to  him. 

After  supper  we  danced  to  the  music  of  a  string 
band.  But  Louis  sat  in  a  corner,  surrounded  by  a 
group  of  older  men  and  I  could  see  they  were  in 
earnest,  thrashing  out  the  latest  developments  at 
the  Front.  That  gave  me  a  chance  mth  Angele — 
or  rather — half  a  chance,  because  her  every 
thought  was  with  her  brother. 

''He  is  all  the  world  to  me,"  she  said. 

She  watched  over  him  in  spite  of  himself  and 
when  she  concluded  he  must  be  tired,  she  whis- 
pered it  to  his  friends  and  they  began,  one  by 
one,  to  leave,  in  spite  of  his  protests.  He  went 
with  them  to  the  door,  shouting,  waving,  kissing 
his  hand.  When  he  came  back  to  us  he  did  look 
a  bit  done  up. 

**Ali,  Angele,  it  is  good  to  be  at  home,"  he  said, 


The  Flower  of  France  245 


and  then,  as  thongli  fearing  that  might  seem  a  con- 
fession of  weakness,  he  hastened  to  add,  "for  a 
little  time!'* 

We  spent  six  wonderfully  lazy  days  in  the  heart 
of  summer.  It  was  there  that  I  came  to  know  the 
poppies  which  were  so  like  Angele,  so  radiant,  so 
graceful — so  lovely.  I  told  her  once  that  she  put 
me  in  mind  of  them. 

"I  am  glad,"  she  replied,  ''because  I,  too,  love 
them." 

My  leave  was  not  up  for  eleven  days  all  told, 
and  Louis  had  persuaded  me  to  stay  on  at  the  little 
cottage  after  his  return  to  duty.  I  did  not  need 
much  persuading.  It  seemed  as  though  I  could 
never  tear  myself  away  from  that  tiny  house 
shaded  by  tall  trees. 

The  night  before  he  left  I  don't  think  any  of  us 
slept  a  wink.  The  neighbors  arrived,  laden  with 
all  sorts  of  dainties — cakes  and  bread  they  had 
made  for  liim  to  take  back.  They  brought  pack- 
ages for  their  own  boys,  too,  that  he  cheerfully 
promised  to  distribute.  They  gave  him  letters 
and   a   thousand  messages,   which  he   repeated 


246 Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

painstakingly  after  them.  He  was  so  gentle  with 
thein,  so  eager  to  do  as  they  asked. 

He  was  particularly  pleased  over  a  little  bunch 
of  wild  flowers  a  tiny  girl  had  gathered  for  him, 
the  flowers  were  drooping  and  faded  from  being 
clasped  in  her  hot  little  hand,  but  he  told  her  again 
and  again  how  much  he  loved  them,  until  her  little 
cheeks  glowed  pink  with  joy  and  her  eyes  shone 
like  stars. 

After  they  had  gone,  I  stole  away  and  left  An- 
gele  alone  with  him.  They  sat  in  the  open  door- 
way, her  cheek  against  his  arm,  her  hand  in  his. 
She  was  not  sad,  there  was  a  happy,  busy  note  in 
her  voice  as  she  chatted  to  him. 

Before  he  climbed  the  stairs  to  bed,  he  sought 
me.  I  was  smoking  and  thinking,  on  a  little  bench 
beneath  the  trees.  Louis  sat  beside  me  and  laid 
his  hand  on  my  knee. 

**Well,  my  friend,  I  leave  before  you.  For  a 
little  while  we  part,  is  it  not  so?— then,  God  will- 
ing, we  meet  again." 

I  tried  to  tell  him  what  my  visit  had  meant  to 
me.    What  a  place  France  and  her  people  would 


The  Flower  of  France  247 

for  ever  more  occupy  in  my  heart.  All  those 
things  I  struggled  to  say,  but  when  it  comes  to 
expressing  that  which  lies  close  to  our  heart,  I  find 
we  are  a  halting,  tongue-tied  nation ! 

Then  I  spoke  of  Angele.  I  wanted  him  to  know 
before  he  left  how  much  I  cared  for  her.  I  was 
afraid  he  might  be  displeased,  but,  instead,  he 
pumped  my  hand  with  joy. 

''This  is  American  fashion,"  he  laughed,  then 
he  leaned  over  and  kissed  my  cheek.  ' '  Since  you 
love  a  French  girl  you  will  have  to  get  used  to  her 
brother 's  greeting, ' '  he  said. 

I  told  him  I  had  not  spoken  to  Angele.  I  had 
not  dared  to.  I  could  not  hope  she  would  care 
for  me. 

"But  you  must  speak  to-night,  before  I  go,"  he 
shouted.  *' Let  me  prepare  her  first.  Oh,  but  this 
is  of  a  great  happiness  to  me!" 

And  before  I  could  stop  him,  he  hurried  away. 

After  a  long  silence,  while  my  heart  thumped 
against  my  ribs  and  I  felt  myself  growing  hot  and 
cold  by  turns,  his  voice  sounded  through  the  dark- 
ness. 


248  Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 

"Come  here,  my  friend,  and  see  what  you  can 
do  to  make  this  child  change  her  mind." 

I  ran  toward  him.  I  saw  the  flash  of  Angele's 
white  gowTi,  but  when  I  reached  her  side,  Louis 
had  gone.  She  awaited  me.  Somehow  she  looked 
like  the  poppies  at  twilight,  when  their  petals  are 
folded.  .  .  . 

We  were  there  together  so  long,  that  at  length 
Louis'  voice  broke  in  upon  us  and  startled  us. 
He  shouted  that  he  must  leave  in  six  hours — that 
a  brother  returning  to  the  Front  had  some  claim 
upon  his  sister's  time.  Angele  flew  to  his  side, 
begging  him  to  forgive  her  selfishness,  but  he 
pinched  her  cheek  and  laughed  at  her,  brimming 
over  with  happiness  at  the  romance  for  which  he 
claimed  he  was  responsible. 

"But  you  must  not  take  her  away  until  after 
the  war,"  he  pleaded.  "I  want  her  here  to  greet 
me  when  I  come  home.  I  am  a  selfish  brute,  I 
know,  but  I  would  have  nothing  to  return  to  if  my 
little  sister  were  gone." 

I  promised  him.  I  would  have  promised  any- 
thing that  night  I  was  so  happy.    It  did  not  seem, 


The  Flower  of  France  249 


as  I  stood  in  that  quiet,  leafy  garden,  with  An- 
gele  's  hand  in  mine,  that  there  could  be  pain  and 
anguish  in  the  world — that  cannon^  could  be  roar- 
ing and  star  shells  bursting  less  than  a  hundred 
miles  away ! 

Louis  left  at  daybreak.  We  drove  to  Paris  with 
him  and  to  the  station.  It  was  a  gay  morning  with 
a  red  sun  rolling  up  from  the  east. 

Angele  was  all  smiles  and  animation,  full  of 
eager  plans  for  his  next  leave.  She  submitted  to 
his  teasing  with  a  laugh,  but,  for  all  that,  her  eyes 
looked  as  though  they  held  a  world  of  unshed 
tears,  and  I  saw  her,  once  or  twice,  press  her  lips 
together  as  though  to  choke  back  the  sobs. 

The  station  was  full  of  men  returning  to  the 
Front.  They  called  eagerly  to  one  another — they 
compared  packages,  and  boasted  of  the  good  times 
they  had  had.  Louis  caught  my  hand  and  wrung 
it.    Then  he  laid  Angele 's  in  it. 

* '  She  is  all  I  have, ' '  he  said ;  * '  it  is  fitting  I  leave 
her  in  the  care  of  our  beloved  ally." 

He  kissed  her  and  teased  her  about  capturing  an 
American  in  seven  days,  saluted  us  smartly  and 


250  Over  the  Seas  for  Uncle  Sam 


stalked  through  the  great  gate,  turning  to  wave 
and  smile  and  kiss  his  hand. 

I  never  felt  such  a  sense  of  loss  in  my  life.  It 
seemed  as  though  the  sun  had  gone  out  of  the  day. 

*'I  cannot  bear  it,"  Angele  whispered,  so  I  took 
her  away. 

We  spent  the  few  remaining  days  of  my  leave 
planning  our  life  after  the  war.  She  will  not 
marry  me  until  then.  She  and  Louis  are  coming 
to  the  States  to  live  and  we  three  are  to  be  as 
happy  as  the  days  are  long.  We  will  be,  too.  I 
know  it. 

I  have  been  across  seven  times  since  and  I  have 
seen  her  four  of  those  times  in  the  past  year.  If 
there  is  any  man  on  earth  who  wants  this  war  to 
end  it  is  I — and  the  reason  is  a  certain  flower-like 
girl  in  France.  Good  Lord!  you  don't  know  what 
waiting  for  her  means ! 

We've  got  to  finish  those  Germans  quickly  and 
thoroughly  so  that  Louis  and  Angele  and  I  can 
set  sail  for  America.  If  that  is  not  a  reason  for 
ending  this  war,  find  me  a  better  one ! 

THE   END 


WHERE  THE  SOULS 

OF  MEN  ARE 

CALLING 

The  first  big  love  story  to  come  out  of  the  war 
zone — founded  on  fact  more  strange,  more  power- 
ful than  fiction. 

The  author,  Lt.  Credo  Harris,  stationed  in 
France  with  the  International  Red  Cross,  is  a 
Kentuckian.  He  just  couldn't  keep  out  of  it 
''Over  There."  His  story  starts  with  the  en- 
trance of  America  into  the  war  and  ends  on  the 
firing  line  of  France.  There  is  charm  and  skill 
in  his  style  which  insures  keenest  interest  on  the 
part  of  the  reader. 

What  the  Critics  are  saying: 

"A  story  of  strong  characters  blended,  it  exem- 
plifies the  old  maxim  that  'truth  is  stranger  than 
fiction,'  and  in  this  case  more  powerful." — Buffalo 
News. 

"One  of  those  books  that  grip  and  grip." — Mil- 
waukee Sentinel. 

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mend."— Louisville  Herald. 

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a  realistic  picture  of  life  in  the  war  zone." — 
Courier  Journal. 

"Jeb  proves  that  a  coward  can  become  the 
bravest  of  men." — Pittsburgh  Chronicle-Tele- 
graph. 

Attractively  bound  in  cloth  $i-35  net 

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Every  grown-up  will  remember  the  time 
when 

"Chicken  Little" 

was  a  most  Avonderful  tale  with  which  to  open 
wide  the  eyes  of  children. 

Many  a  fond  mother  will  be  glad  to  know  of 
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Chicken   Little  Jane 

A  DELIGHTFUL  STORY  BY 

LILY  MUNSELL  RITCHIE 

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was  very,  very  good — but  when  she  misbehaved 
it  was  "Jane"! — just  Jane! 

This  book  is  illustrated  and  decorated  with  un- 
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LAUGH  AND  LIVE 

A   WONDERFUL    BOOK  OF  INSPIRATION 

By  DOUGLAS  FAIRBANKS 

The  Man  Who  Set  the  World  to  Laughing — and 
Kept  Himself  Happy  and  Well. 

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ness,"  no  "Big  I"  and  "Little  You"  in  the  text. 
It  is  more  like  the  talk  of  a  widely  experienced 
comrade  back  from  a  voyage.  Asked  to  tell  what 
he  saw  in  his  travels  he  proceeds  to  'lo  it 
modestly  and  well. 

1 8   Intimate   Pictures 

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A  ,  T  H  O  U  S  A  N  D 
WAYS  TO  PLEASE 
A        HUSBAND 

By  LOUISE  BENNETT  WEAVER 
and  HELEN    COWLES    LE  CRON 

With  Decorations  in  CoUr  By  ELIZABETH  COLBORNE 
o/f  SPLENDID  giFT  FOR  A  "BRIDE 

This  volume  is  not  the  usual  dull  plodding 
kitchen  cook  book  made  up  from  "collected" 
recipes  and  enlivened  by  photographic  reproduc- 
tions of  cakes,  pies,  roasted  turkeys,  and  tables 
set  with  knives  and  forks  placed  "just  so." 
Rather  it  is  the  "life  and  adventures"  of  "Bob" 
and  "Bettina,"  who  sail  into  the  complexities  of 
housekeeping  the  moment  the  wedding  journey 
is  at  an  end.  Bettina's  "know-how,"  plus  "Bob's" 
good-natured  helpfulness,  bring  about  immediate 
success  to  a  lively  and  interesting  attempt  at 
home-building. 

Unique — practical — for  two  people  in  particular 
and  s'inall  families  in  general.  For  economy  and 
plenty  at  one  and  the  same  time  it  has  no  equal. 

479  Pages  Extra  Illustrated  $1.50  net 

BrittoR  Publishing  Company  New  York 


LITTLE  ^  STORIES 
FROM  THE  SCREEN 

By   WILLIAM    ADDISON    LATHROP 

Filling  a  long-felt  want  of  thousands  who  de- 
sire to  know  the  methods  of  the  top-notch  moving 
picture  writer,  this  celebrated  photo-dramatist 
has  sanctioned  the  use  of  eighteen  of  his  best 
synopses,  and  one  full  scenario,  representing  a 
wide  range  of  successful  productions  participated 
in  by  world-famous  stars  familiar  to  millions. 
Each  Synopsis  is  accompanied  by  one  or  more 
actual  scenes  of  the  finished  play  in  which  twenty- 
five  screen  favorites  are  pictured  in  their  strong- 
est acts. 
Cloth  Highly  Illustrated  $1.25  net 


UNCLE    BILL'S    LET- 
TERS   TO    HIS   NIECE 

By  RAY  BROWN 

Here's  as  gay  a  little  gift  as  any  girl  could 
wish.  Bright,  sparkling  and  joyous — letters  from 
a  matter-of-fact  old  uncle  who  talks  to  his  young 
niece  straight  from  the  shoulder,  exactly  as  he 
might  to  a  boy. 

Uncle  Bill  gives  facts  about  moonlight,  be- 
comes violent  over  athletics,  taboos  snobbery, 
takes  a  fling  at  heredity,  and  touches  up  a  few 
complexions. 

The  result  is  extravagantly  and  deliciously 
funny — Just  the  Book  for  an  Ingenue.  ♦> 

Cloth   Decorative  Cover  and  Jacket   60  cents  net 
Britton  Publishing  Company  New  York 


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University  of  California 

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305  De  Neve  Drive  -  Parking  Lot  17  •  Box  951388 

LOS  ANGELES,  CALIFORNIA  90095-1388 

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